First of Summer
by Karashi
Summary: An AU set during the 1920's and a spin-off of my earlier drabble "Almost." No aliens, no monsters, no powers, but it's chock-full of historical innacuracies, a faint semblance to a plot and yes, eventual GwenxKevin goodness.
1. Sitting Pretty

**Disclaimers: **

Ben 10, Ben 10: Alien Force and their respective characters belong to Man of Action.

**Author's Note:**

This is an Alternate Universe story set during the prohibition era of the 1920's. There are no aliens here, or powers, or magic. And yes, this is also a spin-off of my earlier drabble "Almost" only there are certain differences which you will have to find out on your own.

**Chapter One: Sitting Pretty**

Evening had settled in Central Park with an air of warmth that gently nudged away the last traces of spring. Summer was coming to the city, ushering promises of beautiful venues for picnics and dates. But tonight, even with the balmy wind blowing through the trees and slipping past blades of grass, there was a chill lingering in the darkness.

Few people wandered Central Park when the night came, only the hansom cab drivers would venture along the cobbled streets. The horses' hooves would canter noisily past iron-cast lampposts, down familiar stretches where the couples riding within would cozy up against each other. But even these working men with their trusty steeds would keep to the well-lit portions of the park.

Unlike two figures seated on a bench located in the very heart of the park.

Silently they sat, one leaning back to take a long drag from his cigarette, the other nonchalantly feeding imaginary pigeons. The lamppost a few paces away flickering to life every so often to briefly illuminate their features.

They were both young men in the prime of their youth; both sported tailored suits, both had hair as dark as the night sky on a moonless night, and both had eyes that belied their experience despite their age.

That was where their similarities ended.

The younger of the two, albeit by just one year, kept his short hair slicked back, out of his gray eyes. His frame was slender; slight even, the fabric of his clothing giving no indication of the toned muscles he possessed. He had a certain softness to his face. One might almost say cherubic if it weren't for the grim line his lips took, marring his otherwise gentle appearance. His hand dug into the paper bag of stale bread crumbs, absently tossing them out before him in sporadic intervals.

The older of the two allowed his hair to grow longer and free of the oils the other men wore in their locks. Uneven bangs fell before his earth-hued eyes and he'd blow these strands away between exhales of cigarette smoke. Unlike the gentleman seated beside him, his broad shoulders weren't so easily concealed. His rugged features matched his physique, and an aquiline nose that gave him a more menacing look whenever his brows would knit together.

Like now for instance.

Flicking the ash from the edge of his cigarette, he spoke nonchalantly, "Times are tough, ain't they, Edwin?"

"They sure are, Kevin." The younger man agreed in the same tone.

"Can't be any tougher that what me and my boys are going through." He snorted before taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Says you, just last week Joey went missing." Edwin retorted, throwing a handful of crumbs to the side in an arc.

"Two nights ago Fiver never showed up."

"Let me guess, the very same Fiver Bongo got into a scrape with over that flapper? I thought he left town with her."

"Fiver ain't the type to up and leave for some bird." Kevin sounded amused, still keeping his gaze affixed on the night scenery before him.

"Are you trying to say something, Kevin?" Edwin asked, echoed by crinkling of the now-empty paper bag.

"Naw, I'm just wondering if the truce is still on." He shrugged, before dropping his cigarette to snuff it with the heel of his shoe.

"Of course it is. I wouldn't be foolish enough to waste resources when a more profitable compromise can be reached." Edwin scoffed as he rose to dust his hands and suit clean.

"Hard to say, since I don't think you'd be dumb enough to admit it if it _was_ you." The older man grinned in open mockery.

"I hold you in the same regard." Edwin stated in the same tone of contempt.

An owl's hoot drew both men's attention and wordlessly they departed into the shadows. Both men were greeted by his motley crew of individuals.

"So what's the word, boss?" The larger of the two men flanking Kevin asked.

"I ain't sure if it _is_ the Tricks making our boys vanish. But it looks like they got problems of their own." That bit of news helped to ease the suspicion. "Fingers, I still want you to tell the runners to keep their eyes peeled." Kevin added, taking a quick glance over his shoulder at Edwin's retreating figure.

"What'd he say? What'd he say?" The giddy youth beside Edwin repeated over and over.

"Ace, if you'd let him get a word in edge-wise we might know." A petite man frowned as he nervously kept watch of the park's surroundings.

"It's fine, Ike." Edwin smiled, "Shame Ben couldn't make it tonight, I just acquired some information he'd like to hear."

"Where is Tennyson, anyway?" Ace continued, "Not like him to be all ghosty when we meet with the Chains."

"Tennyson's at the station." Ike answered.

"I thought the sergeant promised he wouldn't make Tennyson do the paperwork at night?" Ace quickly continued.

"Not _that_ station, the train station. Honestly, Ace, your mouth moves far too quickly for that lump in your head you call a brain to keep up."

Edwin just laughed, enjoying the banter between the petite liaison officer and the young part-chauffer, part-runner. Still, even with this light hearted mood, he couldn't shake off the nagging sensation that something sinister was going on.

In fact, both Kevin and Edwin felt this in their gut. And both men found it frustrating that they had no idea what to expect.

--

Benjamin Tennyson sighed irritably as he got up from the waiting bench to stretch his legs. His dark green eyes glanced up at the clock and frowned at the time. It was half past nine and the schedule on the roster had promised the arrival should have been quarter to eight. He had been waiting for nearly two hours for the train to arrive at the station and was starting to lose his patience.

Finally, a high-pitched whistle sounded and Ben peered into the darkness, barely making out the locomotive's shape as it chugged steadily towards the station. At the familiar noise, the crowd surged onto the loading platform, eager to get on with their travels and to put this annoying delay behind them.

Ben simply waiting by the entrance to the loading platform, no way was he going to get trampled and jostled just for the sake of picking up his guest. He watched the steady stream of bodies alight the train and searched for the familiar face from his youth.

A slender female briskly walked past him. He wouldn't have noticed her if her suitcase hadn't hit his leg rather painfully. And she wouldn't have noticed him if he had not let out a yelp.

"Oh, sorry about that!" the girl gasped, turning to inspect the damage she had caused. "I was just in a hurry and... wait, is that you, Ben?"

"Gwen?" Ben blinked, partly unable to believe the attractive (if not dowdily dressed) girl before him was the very same cousin he used to pick on when they were younger. Though they were of the same age, Ben now had to tilt his head down in order to meet her gaze.

"So it _is_ you! You've certainly grown." She smiled, bright-green eyes tapering into jovial slits. Her fingers ran through her bobbed fiery-red hair before she reached out to tussle Ben's dark brown locks. "I remember I used to be taller than you."

"Tell me about it in the car." Ben interrupted, rubbing the spot on his leg briefly before taking one of Gwen's suitcases from her.

"You have a car? How ritzy of you." She grinned in genuine admiration.

"I wouldn't say that, it's just grandpa Max's Rust Bucket."

"That old heap's still running? Wonders never cease." Gwen chuckled as they walked to the aforementioned vehicle.

"She ain't a breezer, but at least she runs." Ben shrugged, tossing in Gwen's luggage into the back.

"I guess this old jalopy's the only thing a rookie cop can afford, huh?" The young woman shook her head as she got in.

"Yeah, well, it does have sentimental value." Ben responded as he climbed in shortly after her.

"I can see that," Gwen smirked, spying the chips on the dashboard she and her cousin had accidentally made when they first rode in the car. "By the way, thanks for putting me up at your place."

"I figured you could pay half the rent while you're here."

"Very funny Ben." She frowned.

"Nice to see you still can't take a joke." It was Ben's turn to smirk.

It was a comfort for both cousins to see that some things haven't changed. They reminisced as they drove through the night, trying to get caught up with each other's lives. It had been nearly a decade since they had last seen each other and that was when their grandfather had taken them on a drive to their uncle's pig farm.

"At least you don't spend all your summers on the farm." Ben noted.

"Uncle Henry told me to stop coming when he realized the farm hands were looking at me differently." She blushed, despite the self-confidence she often projected she still felt quite awkward about her appearance. Even if there was little reason for her to feel that way.

"That why you don't dress like the other girls?" Ben was quite accustomed to seeing women with shortened skirts and bare arms. The image was a stark contrast to the long sleeved, low-hemmed skirt of Gwen's dress.

"I never understood why you had to show skin to be considered an independent modern woman." She frowned in distaste.

"That's a good thing in your case, I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gwen narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Nothing, it's just the big city's dangerous compared to your small town. And well, let's just say I've seen things happen to girls that I don't want to see happening to you."

"Thanks for the concern." The young woman smiled as she yawned, "But you'd be surprised at what I can do."

"Uh huh, just try not to draw attention to yourself and you should be just fine." The brunette suggested.


	2. Bearcat

**Chapter Two: Bearcat**

The cousins arrived at the small, two-story house Ben shared with their grandfather. The deed to the property was actually in their grandfather Max's name and he would have been the one to fetch Gwen at the station. Had the elderly gentleman not been on a trip with an old flame of his.

Neither cousin seemed to be comfortable about discussing this little bit of knowledge. Despite believing themselves to be open-minded individuals, there were simply some things they didn't deem appropriate to _think_ about.

Let alone say out loud.

Family pictures and newspaper clippings of the older Tennyson's exploits as a young police officer decorated the hallways, drawing attention away from the fading wallpaper and chipped walls. Lighting fixtures glowed warmly, bathing the house in a welcoming light. The age-worn carpet muffled their footsteps as Ben lugged Gwen's things up the stairs and into the spare bedroom.

"This is a nice neighborhood," Gwen remarked as she peered out the window.

"Yeah, grandpa sure knew how to pick 'em." Ben nodded in agreement. "Plus it's only a block or two away from the precinct so I'm never late for work."

"You don't say? Where's the museum or the theater? I heard the Broadway shows here are fantastic."

"Ugh, you still like those boring stuff? Ain't you ever been a kid?" Ben shook his head.

"I'll have you know my friends and I really like those things." Gwen huffed.

"Yeah? Well, you're in the big city now! I'll show you how we have fun tomorrow. After I get off from work."

"That sounds good," Gwen nodded, curious about what Ben would consider fun. "Do I need to dress up or anything?"

Ben gave Gwen a quick once-over, "If the rest of the clothes you brought are anything like the one you're wearing, you'd better buy something new. There are some nice shops a few blocks that-a-way." He gestured.

"There is nothing wrong with the way I dress." Gwen frowned.

"Hey, I know that and you know that. Buuuut big city thinking is different and you gotta blend in. And to blend in right, you gotta have the right duds."

"I suppose I could update my wardrobe a bit." She mused.

"Great! That's it then, I'm off to bed. Breakfast is at seven sharp."

"You cook?"

"Had to, otherwise I'd have to eat grandpa's stuff."

Both cousins shuddered in recollection of their grandfather's rater _unique_ culinary preferences before bidding each other goodnight.

--

Elsewhere in a poorly lit area, a young girl found herself staring at the barrel of a tommy gun. There was no trace of fear in her eyes, no sign of resignation or of madness. Without so much as blinking, she grabbed hold of the end and pushed upwards with an almost inhumane strength.

The gun fired several round into the air as the young girl drew a small knife from the garter of her stockings while dashing into the gunman's chest. In one smooth motion, she had plunged the blade into his stomach, unmindful of the string of expletives that poured out of his mouth in unison with the blood from his wound.

She retracted the weapon as he roughly backhanded her away.

The blank glaze in her eyes showed no pain and in the same instant she lunged for him. The knife sunk deeply into his jugular as more rounds fired. This time a few bullets managed to hit their mark as they buried into the young girl's flesh.

Mechanically, she started to drag the gunman's body towards the vehicle he had been driving moments ago. Dumping him haphazardly into the back seat, she didn't bother to push his dangling limbs in completely. Finding the keys still in the ignition, she started up the car and drove off.

Not once did she seem aware of the serious wounds dotting her slim frame. She would continue to drive long into the night towards the edge of the city until the car runs out of gas and she runs out of blood.

--

The morning would come to greet Gwen with warm blanket of sunshine and a serenade of birds. The red-haired youth rubbed away the sleep from her eyes as she rose from the bed. The fatigue of travels proved to be easily remedied by a good night's sleep and the aroma of pancakes wafting into her room proved to be an even better balm.

Gwen quickly got dressed to join her cousin for breakfast, eager to start her day. In the kitchen, Ben was already in his uniform, finishing off his own pile of syrup-drenched pancakes. He greeted her with what she could only guess was a "Good morning", given how stuffed his mouth was.

"This actually looks pretty good." Gwen noted as she sat down across Ben before digging into the food.

"Cup of joe?" Ben offered, holding out the pot of freshly brewed coffee.

"No thanks, milk will do." She waved her hand, reaching for the pitcher of creamy liquid.

"Okay, I gotta go. I've probably got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me." Ben grimaced, "I should be back by five. The spare key is under the potted plant on the porch. And please, Gwen, get something nice. You're just here for the summer. I have to _live_ here."

"Keep that up and I might buy something absolutely out of date just to spite you." Gwen sweetly warned while batting her eyes.

"Could you at least clear the table for me?" Ben sighed.

"Why not? I'm in no rush."

"That's real swell of you!" Ben grinned and promptly rushed out of the house, leaving Gwen to finish her meal alone.

After clearing the table, the young woman spotted the day's newspaper and decided to scan the articles. The paper was little more than an assortment of gossip columns and editorials, which when compared to the actual news of the crime rate reaching an all time high was far less depressing for the female Tennyson.

Suspected murders and a string of disappearances were definitely not something Gwen wanted to read about this early in the day. To get her mind off the morbid subject, she spent most of the morning unpacking her things and getting settled in.

It would be near noon when she was finished and ready for lunch.

What better time to visit the store after sampling the local cuisine? A hot dog from a vendor wasn't quite the nutritious or glamorous meal she had envisioned but it would have to do for now. She'd let Ben show her the prime eateries later that night.

As she strolled down the streets, she noticed a cluster of younger women sneaking glances at her before snickering to each other. Now, Gwen wasn't the sort who easily conformed to fads. She was quite proud of her ability to reject the trends and kept to the more traditional, if not conservative, styles of fashion.

But she didn't realize that she could easily say this back home with her friends who wore the same manner of clothing as she did. Out here in the big city, well, she felt quite out of place and far too self-conscious to her liking.

_Maybe Ben's right. As they say, when in Rome do what the Romans do._ She mused and headed down the streets in search of dress shops. Gwen had such high hopes of buying herself something that the majority of her generation wore, until that is she caught sight of the prices.

It was quite a shock for the red-head. How could such a small amount of fabric cost so much? Even more shocking was when she learned the other stores charged more. The money she had brought wasn't going to be enough for her it seemed.

While it was likely that Ben would offer to loan her the money, Gwen thought it feel too much like charity. Gwendolyn Tennyson was a modern woman and modern women _never_ took charity.

This was supposed to be a vacation, but it wouldn't be much of one if she couldn't very well afford anything. And so the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to finding herself a part-time job.

--

At the far end of a chain of stores was a large building with an unusually small entrance. Above the door hung a gaudy banner that read "Charmcaster's Charming Clothes" and in the small display window was an equally gaudy sign declaring "HELP WANTED".

Through the doors, one would find a cramped store with a rather unique décor of skulls and bones. Mannequins clad in sequined and beaded dresses surrounded a full length mirror, as if vying for a glimpse of their reflection. Bolts of fabric stretched out across the walls, draped over unlit light fixtures and acted as a makeshift curtain leading to the back room. Ottomans and cushioned stools cluttered the rest of the red-carpeted floor, barely leaving room for a counter where the store's proprietor stood.

Her long, platinum white hair fell in waves down to her back as if in protest to the current trend of bobbed hair. The lids of her amethyst eyes were painted heavily in iridescent green, while her lips shone an almost venomous shade of purple. With ring-adorned fingers, she adjusted a glittering brooch as large as her fist. Whether said piece of jewelry was real or faux one couldn't say. But something about the silken blouse that wrapped tightly around her breasts made it seem irrelevant. Her long, feather-covered skirt cinched at waist and draped over full hips. The hem ended just at her ankles to reveal bare feet and colored toe nails.

The telephone on the end of the counter rang and she swore beneath her breath. "That had better be good news."

"Madame Charmcaster, I can't find Chloe no where." The feminine voice on the other end drawled.

"What? Just when I found a replacement for Mimi, I'm going to have to find _another_ girl?" the older woman groaned, "Just keep looking for that little hussy and tell her to get her rump here tonight before I put a curse on her!"

Without saying goodbye, she slammed the phone back on its receiver. She glared hatefully at the help wanted sign, "I'm beginning to think that's going to become a permanent fixture in this joint."

And then she noticed a young girl take interest in the sign.

The chimes hanging by the door tinkled gently as the girl walked in. "Good morning. I'd like to apply for a part-time job." She stated with the brazen confidence of someone who had no idea what they were getting into.

Charmcaster could barely suppress a snicker from forming. "And what can a plain Jane like you do?"

"First of all, my name is Gwendolyn. Second, I've worked before, I'm a quick study, and I'm also quite good with my hands. And third, everyone around here says you're in desperate need of help." She reasoned.

The older woman smiled, "So you heard I was desperate, huh? Well, sorry hun, you just don't seem like the type I hire."

"What exactly _are_ the qualifications?" Gwen frowned.

"For one thing, you have to know how to get all dolled up. By the looks of you, it must have been ages since you were last at a shindig." Charmcaster smirked. "I mean, please, hun, I think I saw my granny wearing that rag of yours."

"And I suppose looking like a chicken exploded all over you is all the rage?" the younger woman snorted, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

The shop owner glanced down at her skirt and laughed. "You got moxy, I like that. Tell you what, hun, you come back here tonight, say around six or so. If you can pass the test I'll have ready, I'll hire you."

"Six it is!" Gwen declared a little too eagerly as she exited.

Charmcaster watched in amusement as the younger woman left. The smile on her face widened even more when she saw the same girl run into a young man with dark hair and earth-hued eyes. From inside her shop she could see him trying to chat her up and the Madame let out a whoop of laughter when Gwen shook her head and hurriedly walked away.

"Lookie who just got the cold shoulder." The pale-haired woman declared with a cackle as the young man entered.

"She's new I'm betting." He merely brushed off Charmcaster's comment.

"Sure, hun, just keep telling yourself that. It's not like anyone can possibly say no to _the_ Kevin Levin." She teased.

"Ain't that the truth." He smirked before glancing over at the sign, "She gonna be in here tonight?"

"She might. Another one of my girls is looking to be a no-show and I'm going to need as many hands as I can get. Do you have the stuff?"

"When have I ever failed to deliver?" He countered coolly. "I've got the boys bringing it in the back."

"Make sure it's not coffin varnish this time." Charmcaster warned, "Last thing we need is losing Morningstar's business by accidentally poisoning him."

The look of distaste on Kevin's face was unmistakable.

"Oh now don't be like that. I can't stand him either, hun. But he's got cash to burn and he likes to burn it here. Isn't that what matters?" Charmcaster purred as she sauntered over to Kevin. Her slender, ring-clad fingers began to massage the dark haired man's shoulders. "Besides, he's bringing over some friends I plan to schmooze."

Kevin just shrugged her off, "Just keep him out of my way. Otherwise, I ain't gonna be responsible for what happens to the bum." He glowered before pushing aside the curtains to disappear into the back room.


	3. Fire Extinguisher

**Author's Notes: **

Thanks muchly to the people who expressed their opinions on the fic. Here's hoping that I don't end up disappointing you guys with this chapter. Constructive criticism and comments are muchly appreciated.

--

**Chapter Three: Fire Extinguisher**

The day for Benjamin Tennyson progressed with the speed of white rapids. The station was abuzz with the usual flurry of phone calls. Complaints ranging from mere vandalism and petty theft to the growing trend of disturbing the peace and trespassing were filed in quick succession. It was getting difficult to keep track of all the complaints and Ben already had a mountain of paperwork to sort through.

"I am _never_ going to get this done." He groaned as his telephone once again rang right as he was in the middle of filling out a report. "Hello, police department, how may I help you?" He repeated for the nth time that day.

"Oh officer it's terrible! I need help!" The woman on the line was in hysterics.

"What's the problem, ma'am?" He asked. _Please let this not be about a cat stuck in a tree. We're not the fire department. _He thought sourly.

"Our little Samantha hasn't come home!" The woman declared. From above her sobbing, Ben could hear her husband spouting worst case scenarios of kidnapping, white slavery, and murder.

"When was the last time you saw her?" Ben tried to sound sympathetic, the last thing a worried parent needed was to be antagonized.

"Last night."

"And how old is your daughter?"

"Sixteen. Oh officer, please find my baby. She's such a sweet little lamb!"

Ben grimaced, steeling himself for the reaction he would elicit from the woman when he responded "I'm sorry ma'am, but forty eight hours needs to have passed before you can file for a missing person's report."

"That is a load of malarkey! My baby girl could be hurt and hungry and in who knows what danger and you're telling me you're not going to do anything because it hasn't been forty eight hours?!"

"Ma'am, I understand your concern but it's quite possible that your daughter had attended a petting party with her friends and none of them have quite recovered from the excitement." He explained, already feeling the beginning of a headache.

"I beg your pardon! How _dare_ you accuse my little girl of doing such indecent things! Harold! Talk some sense into this rude man!"

Ben simply stayed on the line as the father berated him about how it was his duty as a policeman to protect the innocent. With a sigh he waited for the litany to finish, only it came sooner than expected as he heard a squeal from the background.

"SAMMY! Oh my little baby, are you hurt? Where were you? Harold! Samantha's home! Young lady you and I are going to have to talk!"

Without so much as an apology, Harold hung up on Ben. "Feel free to call again, sir." Ben muttered before slamming the receiver down on its hook.

"Got chewed out by _another _disgruntled parent?" A fellow rookie asked from the adjacent table.

Ben could only nod as he massaged his temples in an attempt to control the throbbing in his head.

"Would this be a bad time to tell you that the Lieutenant wants to see you?"

With a sigh, Ben got to his feet. "At least I won't have to take any more calls." He shrugged before heading towards the lieutenant's office. With a polite knock, Ben turned the knob, opened the door and stuck his head in.

"You wanted to see me, Lieutenant Phillips?" He asked.

The office was big enough to fit three desks, but only one stood in the end of the room, flanked by filing cabinets. A typewriter sat precariously near the edge of the table, peering over the wastebasket overflowing with crumpled balls of paper. The strong smell of tobacco lingered in the air despite an open window.

Amidst the thin haze of smoke was a man reaching his golden years. Hearing the young officer's voice, he looked up from the large folder he held in age-worn hands. "Ah, Ben, come on in. Have a seat my boy." He smiled and gestured towards the empty chair directly before his desk.

"If this is about the Henderson's cat, lieutenant, I was only doing my job by telling them to call the fire department." Ben pre-empted as he closed the door behind him before seating himself down.

"What? Oh no, it's not about that, Ben." The lieutenant laughed, "Anyway, call me Uncle Phil now that we're behind closed doors."

"I'd really rather not if since we're still in the precinct." The young man declined as respectfully as he could. Despite the receding hairline and the numerous white strands peppering the aging officer's head, Lieutenant Phillips or Uncle Phil as he liked to be called, still managed to command a certain air of authority.

"Heh, Max always knew how to drill respect into someone's head. Anyway your grandfather told me little Gwendolyn was going to be here for a spell?"

"Yes, sir, she's here for the summer."

"I see, I see," Phil nodded thoughtfully. "I promised Max that I'd help you show her a great time in the city. But with all these cases just sprouting up like weeds, I don't really have the time to honor that request. So consider yourself given a free pass to show her all the best spots in the city. And I mean the _best_ spots, catch my drift boy?" he winked.

Ben grinned. He knew _exactly_ what the Lieutenant meant and he was confident that a certain dark-haired, gray-eyed individual who could help out. "That's real swell of you, sir. If that's all, I'd better get back to work. Those reports aren't going to fill themselves."

As Ben began to rise, Phil suddenly spoke out "One more thing, Ben. I know you're rather busy with certain," he paused as if grasping for the proper word, "_things_. But I just want to remind you that the times are getting dangerous, even if we like to tell the press otherwise. Remember to watch your back and your cousin's. _Especially_ your cousin's."

The grave expression on the lieutenant's face sent a chill down Ben's spine and the young man quickly exited the room. Returning to his desk, Ben quickly went to work, attacking the waiting pile of papers with a zeal he rarely ever displayed for such mundane things.

"Boy, the lieutenant must have given you a real earful." The other rookie gulped.

"You can say that." Ben chuckled.

--

On the twentieth floor of an office high rise, Edwin Pride was busy reading the obituaries of the newspaper. He was glad that amongst the names printed, none of the bonds dealers he had invested with appeared.

"There's always tomorrow." He sighed, the brief respite from cynicism quickly passing. He leaned back in his plush, leather-covered armchair, one of the few luxuries he would allow himself to have in his rather humble office. The walls were bereft of any expensive paintings; instead they were decorated by framed news clippings of his and his family's achievements in the construction and architectural industry. The carpet covered the expanse of the room, hiding the cheap, but practically treated wooden floor.

Function over fashion was Edwin's motto, though he would have preferred if the two went together. Rather than wasting his funds in buying expensive furniture that only he would have access to, he thought it would be more prudent if he spent his money elsewhere.

Like in his two pet projects for instance.

A smile lit up his youthful face as he thought of the success the first his little endeavors provided him. Granted it took quite a pretty penny to sort through willing individuals of dubious moral fiber. But Edwin was pleased with the way he managed to shape the ragtag of men into the fearsome gang known as the Tricks.

There was only one group who managed to oppose him, and that was the Chains. Even the mere thought of them made Edwin shudder.

While the Tricks were responsible for the disappearances of certain individuals who stood in the Pride family's way, Edwin always made certain that their method of disposal was, for a lack of a better word, _humane_. Unlike the rather brutal manner the Chains used when dealing with their own little problems.

"Such dreary thoughts," Edwin found himself remarking as he put away the obituaries. The telephone rang and he answered it automatically. "Edwin Pride speaking."

"Hey Edwin," Ben's voice greeted, "Think I can call in a favor?"

"No, I'm not jazzing up the rust bucket. My grandfather left specific instructions that his old friend Max's precious is not to be touched in any way that he deems unfit." Edwin chuckled.

"Oh it's not about the car. I've pretty much given up on getting her looking like anything but the rust bucket." Ben laughed, "Listen, I promised my cousin that I'd show her a swell time tonight and I was thinking maybe you could-"

"Pull out all the stops at The Usual?" An amused smirk glided across Edwin's features.

"You're like Houdini with that mind reading trick of yours!"

"No, Ben, you're just very predictable."

"Says you. Anyway the sergeant's givin' me the stink eye for tying up the lines. Gotta beat it."

And the audible click of the receiver returning to its cradle followed. Edwin smiled, if Ben's cousin was anything like him, he was in for an interesting night. Getting a fresh point of view on his second pet project would be a welcomed thing.

After all, there was always room for improvement and more importantly a larger margin of profit.

--

Gwen was a nervous wreck; there was no doubt about that. She may have managed to convince the shop owner to at least give her a chance, but really what did she know about selling clothing? She hardly knew the latest fashion trends, so how would she be able to convince anyone to buy anything? She could always just work in the backroom doing alterations and mending. She certainly had a lot of experience darning socks and patching up things for her older brother and cousins.

Yes, that sounded like a good suggestion to make.

Now if only her body would listen to her head. At times like these, the only way she could calm down was by reading a good book. Then she recalled where she was and groaned. Even if she could _find_ a good book, she risked losing track of time and get to the shop late. Or worse, miss the appointment altogether!

But what really got her to work into a conniption was recalling how she so rudely responded to someone who might have been a valued client of the store. Or worse, the _actual_ store owner! After all, could the strangely dressed woman really be the store's owner? And yes, the platinum-haired woman was strangely dressed even for Gwen. For all Gwen knew, she was just the manager.

"It was _his_ fault." She reasoned, recalling the tall, broad-shouldered man. There was something about the way he looked at her with his dark brown eyes that was unsettling. It was predatory, intense, appraising and curious all at the same time and in so brief a glance!

He shouldn't have looked at her that way. If he hadn't, maybe she wouldn't have been so eager to distance herself from him.

"_Oh, I'm so sorry!" She apologized when she felt herself accidentally run into someone with a rather muscular chest._

"_Don't worry about it," He assured her, his strong hands reaching out to help steady her before smoothly adding "Feel free to run into me anytime."_

_Gwen felt her face flush before she reminded herself that she disliked men who viewed her as little more than a good time. "I'll make a note to do just the opposite." She quipped, "Please excuse me." _

"_What's your rush?" He asked with such a casual arrogance Gwen felt butterflies stir in her stomach. But it was the way he had looked at her with his eyes that made the winged insects within her truly take flight._

"_I-it's really none of your beeswax. And I mean that in the nicest way." She replied sweetly before hurrying off. When she felt she was far enough, she took a quick peek over her shoulder and saw him entering the store!_

"He asked for it," Gwen declared, "A modern woman doesn't need to answer to anyone but herself. Except her would-be employer, what have I done?!" She wailed. With the option of reading a good book scratched out, Gwen resorted to rummaging through her things. It was when her dainty fingers felt the small box containing a deck of cards did she release a sigh of relief.


	4. Cat's Meow

**Chapter Four: Cat's Meow **

The clocks in the Tennyson house showed a quarter-past five on their faces before Ben arrived. He found Gwen waiting for him in the living room, dressed in what he assumed was as daring as Gwen was capable. The sleeves were still present though shortened to end just a few inches above her elbows and he supposed the calf-length skirt was better than nothing. Her feet were clad in flat step-in shoes, obviously designed for comfort rather than style. It was then he noticed Gwen was absently cutting cards with one hand. She didn't even seem to be concentrating much; the movement of her fingers was fluid, practiced, like she could do this blindfolded.

"What are you doing?" Ben blinked as he watched in surprise as his cousin suddenly fanned out the cards on the table to flip them all in one smooth sweep of her hand.

"Calming myself down." She replied, her voice lacking all signs of anxiety.

"I think you're confusing a good time with something else." Ben laughed before removing his coat. "Lemme just get out of my uniform and I'll show you the sights."

"Oh about that," Gwen raised her hand, "Do you mind if we leave a little later? Like two hours later? I, uh, have a more pressing engagement to attend to."

Ben arched a brow, "And that is?"

Gathering the cards into one hand, Gwen bent them lengthwise just enough to give the deck enough tension to spring from one hand to the other. The young woman stated simply "A job interview."

Ben was certainly taken by surprise, "I thought you were here on vacation?"

"I am, but it turns out big city living requires deep pockets. Pockets that I obviously don't have. So, I'm going to need a part-time job." She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You are absolutely screwy. What kind of dame goes on vacation and then gets a job?" Ben shook his head in disbelief.

"_This_ kind of dame," Gwen pointed to herself as she tucked away the deck of cards into her purse. "I have to go, it's a long way to that shop and I have to get there by six."

Even if Ben didn't approve of Gwen taking a job on what was supposed to be her _holiday_ it was her time to with as she pleased. And if that meant working instead of relaxing, well, Ben didn't really have much of a say in the matter. However, he insisted that he at least 'check the place out' for Gwen's sake.

This was not well met by the female Tennyson as she considered it an affront to her judgment. Before the argument could escalate between the two cousins, a compromise was reached. Ben would act as chauffer and moral support for Gwen and she would let him act like the tough, over-protective cop-and-cousin he was trying to be with minimal protest.

"I still say you're making this a bigger deal than it is." Gwen shrugged as she climbed into the rust bucket.

"And I still say you're screwy for wanting to work when I could just as easily spot you the dough." Ben retorted as he started up the vehicle.

"Right, because you're simply overflowing with cash. Is that why the rust bucket's in such _mint_ condition?" She smirked, patting the poor excuse of upholstery that struggled to stretch out over the seats.

"Grandpa Max wants the rust bucket to keep her charm and character. And he goes through great lengths to keep her as is." He sighed, recalling his many failed attempts at jazzing up the aforementioned vehicle. Being turned down by so many auto shops simply because no one wants to mess up with Max Tennyson's jalopy was not a very fond memory for Ben.

"So tell me about the cards." He quickly decided to change the subject.

"What about them?"

"Well, it's just that it isn't often you see people handling the cards the way you do. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a regular card shark."

Gwen flashed her cousin a smirk before lifting her fingers and twiddling them in the air, "Why thank you, I like to think my dexterous little friends are good for more than just darning socks and mending clothes."

"How'd you learn to do all those anyway?"

"Small towns don't offer much excitement. You get your kicks when and where you can. It just so happens that the library is filled with wonderful things called books. Some of them just happen to be about sleight of hand performances and card tricks."

"So you _are_ a card shark!"

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, Ben. Knowing how the dealer shuffles the cards is just an advantage." She grinned, "How else do you think I could have afforded coming here? Oh, there's that shop!" she pointed.

Ben slammed on the brakes far harder than he would have liked. "You can't be serious, Gwen. Do you _know_ what that place is?"

"My potential place of employment." She remarked before hopping out of the car.

"Wait! Gwen! You can't go in there!" Ben called out as he struggled to exit the vehicle. It was obvious Gwen wasn't interested in listening to him as she quickly slipped past the doors.

_This is just dandy_, Ben groaned to himself, _Oh well, she'll find out for herself and then she'll come running right out. _He nodded in confidence and a rather mischievous smile cracked across his lips. _At least this time it's my turn to say I told you so._

--

The interior of the dress shop looked different at night. The skulls and bones that had seemed interesting in the morning sunshine now looked ominous and menacing, as if a warning for trespassers or a promise of things to come. The faint glow of the cloth-covered lamps barely illuminated the room, casting more shadows than banishing them. The scent of sandalwood incense clung to every surface, as if masking something within the dim room.

Gwen gulped audibly as she stepped in, the calm she had managed to find earlier quickly draining out of her. Drawing in a deep breath, she called out, "Hello, ma'am? It's Gwendolyn, from earlier today? I'm here for the-"

"You're here early. And call me Madame or Charmcaster. _Never_ ma'am." Charmcaster remarked as she emerged from the backroom. She seemed pleased by Gwen's punctuality and reached out her hand to Gwen. "Alright, hun, you ready for the test?"

Gwen nodded and accepted the proffered limb, suddenly finding herself being pulled towards the full length mirror. With a practiced motion, Charmcaster shoved the mannequins away and drew the curtains around them, shrouding them in darkness.

"Your test is three parts," Charmcaster explained, "The first is beauty. My girls need to meet a certain standard. So here," the store owner unceremoniously tossed a dress at Gwen. "Put that on and let me see how you look in it."

Charmcaster stepped out of the small cloth enclosure to let Gwen change, much to the young woman's relief. Gwen fumbled in the dark as she removed her own clothes while beginning to wonder what it was she was getting into. Just as she finished pulling the dress over her head, the curtains parted.

"Well? Let me see you, hun."

Gwen spun around, feeling uncomfortably exposed in the garment she had been instructed to wear. Her bare arms folded across her chest, unintentionally drawing attention to the plunging neckline that showed an alluring hint of her cleavage. The skirt hugged her slim hips like a second skin before ending just a hair's breadth past fair-skinned knees.

"Isn't this a little, um, flashy for me?" Gwen asked, her cheeks flushing when she saw her reflection in the mirror.

"Hun, you look down right keen in that little number. Alright, you've passed the first part with flying colors." Charmcaster purred. "Part two is brains. My girls need to be able to think on their feet for any sort of situation. For example..." she trailed off before suddenly pressing herself completely against Gwen's smaller frame.

"A client is getting a little too _friendly_ with you. What'll you do, hun?" She breathed into Gwen's ear.

At first, Gwen was too stunned to react. Having never found herself in such a scenario before, her mind had gone blank. The only thing she was acutely aware of was how the scent of lavender clung to Charmcaster's hair and how soft and warm her body was. But eventually Gwen regained her composure and promptly pushed Charmcaster off her.

"I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself." Gwen declared sternly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"But what if they're quite insistent?" The older woman leered, suddenly sliding beside Gwen while her arms snake around the red-head's body. Her amethyst eyes caught the sight of an elbow aiming for her face. Deftly she leaned backwards, releasing her hold on Gwen to avoid the collision. Slowly she righted herself and found Gwen had already moved back, smiling pleasantly in the darkness.

"That was just a warning." Gwen declared sweetly. _I didn't ever think_ _watching_ _farm hands tussle all those summers would pay off._

"You just passed parts two and three, with that stunt, hun. And you're the second girl to use anything other than a slap." Charmcaster beamed in delight. "Finally I get another live wire. I was getting tired of all the wilting daisies we have here. You start tonight."

Gwen had just gotten a hold of her purse when she blinked in disbelief. "_Tonight_? But I had plans for tonight with my cousin."

"You're just gonna have to tell him to take a rain check, hun." Charmcaster shrugged.

"Let me get changed first so I can tell him." She began and quickly gathered her things.

"You ain't goin'no where and you're keeping the dress on, hun." Charmcaster stated. "Just tell me where the cat is at and I'll tell him for you."

"He's just outside. And if I can just ask am I supposed to be modeling the dresses for the store?" Gwen canted her head.

Charmcaster just stared at Gwen before bursting out in laughter, "Oh my Lord, you have no idea what this joint is all about, do you hun?"

Before Gwen could answer, the platinum-haired woman slung her arms across the female Tennyson's shoulders and ushered her through the curtains and into the backroom.

Gwen's eyes widened at the sight of a large, well-lit parlor, easily ten times the size of the cramped shop front. Immediately she could understand the need for the sandalwood incense as the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke permeated the room. Tables with chairs stacked atop clustered in one end, while cushioned booths stood a few feet away. A black piano waited patiently beside an unlit platform that served as a stage.

Several young women loitered in scattered groups, applying make up or adjusting their glittering stockings and heavily sequined dresses. Feather-adorned hats and sparkling bandanas decorated sleek, bobbed hair as painted lips chattered and giggled. Compared to these women, Gwen never felt so drab in her entire life.

Lining a majority of the wall was a bar where liquors and spirits of all sort were kept in full view as a sort of defiant protest against the prohibition law. A young, well dressed man was bussing the long counter while another was polishing and wiping drinking glasses.

"Now do you understand what kind of joint I run, hun?" Charmcaster's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"It's a Speak Easy?" Gwen blinked, having only heard of such places as she never quite found the desire to enter one.

"Now you're on the trolley, hun. I have to be honest with you. You're cute but you seem like one of them bluenose, high hat types so I don't _really_ expect you to stick around. But as you said earlier today I'm desperate and need all the help I can get. Especially for tonight." The proprietor explained.

"But what about-"

"The pay? You'll get your share after the evening's over, hun. All's I need for you to do is to greet the clients as they come in."

"N-no, I mean what about my cousin Ben? He's still outside waiting for me."

"I'll go tell him to come swing by for you in a couple of hours." Charmcaster motioned for a tall, athletic woman with rust-hued locks to approach them. "Rojo, hun, this here's Gwen. Show her the ropes while I go take care of other matters."

And Gwen was left with the fierce-looking pale woman who showed far more flesh than necessary in Gwen's opinion. "Uh, nice to meet you, Rojo was it?" adjusting her things, she started to extend her hand when Rojo simply slapped it away.

"I ain't interested in making friends. I just want to land me a man so's I'll be set for life. So stay out of the way and try not to look _too_ pretty, you got that, runt?"

Nursing her wrist, Gwen glared defiantly at the taller woman, "Don't worry, I'll only be here for tonight."

"Heh, you probably wouldn't last any longer than that anyway." Rojo smirked, "You sure don't look like a flapper girl. You're more of a frump. And frumps here get eaten alive." She flashed a tooth grin before chomping down in mimicry of a shark.

"Maybe I just don't require the attention of men to make myself feel special." Gwen smirked and suddenly found herself being lifted off the ground by the collar of her dress.

"You got a smart mouth. Maybe I should paint it with your blood?"

"Is there a problem, ladies?" A familiar, velvety smooth voice interrupted.

Gwen gasped in surprise to see the same, dark haired man she ran into earlier that day.

--

Outside, Ben waited in the car, fingers drumming on the car's dashboard.

"How long does a person take to realize this dress shop isn't really a dress shop?" he muttered.

Hearing the sound of an opening door, Ben turned towards the shop's entrance expecting to see his cousin. A figure emerged, but the long tresses were a clear indication that whoever it was, it wasn't Gwen.

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd see _you_ in this part of the city, hun." The sultry voice of Charmcaster chuckled.

"I'm only here for my cousin," Ben replied deadpan as he got out of the car.

Charmcaster laughed, "I never would have guessed the little bearcat inside is related to Edwin's lapdog."

"You'll find that my bite's worse than my bark," Ben returned darkly.

"A rabid lapdog can be quite deadly." Was the mocking reply, "Now look, hun, your concern for your cousin is quite touching. But she's a big girl and she's got enough moxy to keep herself from getting into any scrapes in there."

"She's still my cousin and I have to keep her out of trouble. Now if you don't mind sending her out, we'll be on our way and out of your hair. Or am I going to have to storm the place?"

"And risk breaking the truce," Charmcaster sneered before leaning in close to Ben's ear, "Or your _cover_? I'm sure the boys in blue won't look too kindly on knowing they have a dirty cop."

"Who said I was going to Edwin's? Uncle Phil, or should I say Lieutenant Phillips gave me strict orders to show Gwen a good time. And if you're getting in the way of that, I can charge you with obstruction."

"You think you're the only one who's got friends in high places?" She returned smugly, her hip jutting out defiantly at Ben. "Oh hun, we can keep at this all night but I've got a joint to take care of. And you being here is bad for business. Come back in a couple of hours, your cousin will have enough money to get herself as dolled up as she wants for the next season or two."

"I don't think so."

With a sigh, Charmcaster entered her shop with Ben closely following her. Moments later, the young man was being roughly tossed out by two large men.

"You heard the lady, come back in a few hours. We'll keep an eye on Len for ya." The larger one of the pair laughed.

"Gwen." The other corrected gruffly.

"Whatever."

Ben winced from the pavement's solid greeting before dusting himself off. Grimacing, he got into the rust bucket and drove off. This little altercation between them was far from over.

--

Kevin was in the dimly lit stock room checking on their inventory after they had finished loading everything in. He had taken it upon himself to personally oversee the re-stocking, having lost two shipments these past few months to some unknown group. His sources had no idea who was behind the thefts as all leads seemed to either grow cold or arrive at a dead end.

Emphasis on _dead_.

How many guys had he lost? Kevin could probably count them all on one hand, but it was the principle of the thing that irked him. Someone actually had the guts to take him on but not enough to actually make himself known?

"Blasted coward." He snarled to himself as he carefully closed the lid on the crate of liquor. He knew it couldn't have been Edwin, given how he had heard the other man's gang had been losing numbers themselves.

There was no word on any new group forming, no talk of a dark horse trying to make it big on the scene. Whoever it was, they weren't trying to give themselves a name and that struck Kevin as odd. The point of stealing liquor from someone else was to drive the other party out of business while helping your own to grow. No one had heard of any new speak easy suddenly emerging, so where was all the booze going? Even the cops on Kevin's payroll were clueless about the whereabouts of the smuggled spirits.

Still puzzled, Kevin exited the stock room, deciding to unwind over a drink before the night's crowd started to arrive. Normally he would make an appearance, just to remind the customers that they were paying for more than just the drinks. His notoriety was one of the many reasons why his speak easy was so popular.

One could never be certain of what would happen with Kevin Levin around. A cheap thrill, but it was one Kevin was willing to provide from time to time.

Just not tonight. Not when that smug, prissy Morningstar was around.

It was no secret that Kevin disliked a fair amount of people. Edwin was certainly one of them, but that was out of principle. After all, it just wouldn't do to be on good terms with the boss of your gang's rival, would it? Benjamin Tennyson however, he disliked for other reasons. The young officer was good friends with Edwin for one. And more often than not when raids were made or when deals went sour, Ben would have had a hand in setting it up. But Kevin knew it was all business, even if it looked like Tennyson was personally gunning for him.

Morningstar, on the other hand, Kevin disliked out of personal reasons. Entering the parlor, an argument between two women provided him with a much appreciated distraction from the subject of Mike Morningstar.

"Maybe I just don't require the attention of men to make myself feel special." There was something vaguely familiar about the self-assured tones of that voice. Turning towards the source, Kevin was pleasantly surprised to see it was the girl who had given him the brush off earlier that day.

A predatory grin spread across his face as he watched Rojo lift the slender girl off the ground. Already he started to close the gap between him and the two women.

"You got a smart mouth. Maybe I should paint it with your blood?" The larger woman growled.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" He asked.

Rojo glanced over her shoulder and smirked at him. "Nah, boss, just showing the new girl the ropes."

Kevin had to keep himself from cracking up in laughter at the look of recognition on the other girl's face. Oh yes, she _definitely_ remembered him.

"W-we're just peachy." Gwen stammered, seemingly more distressed by his presence than the threat of Rojo giving her a bloodied lip.

"I ain't gonna bother you two then." He waved and started to walk away. Any second now he expected the red-head to call for help, which he would be more than happy to give. Naturally in exchange for some favors.

"Any last words, pipsqueak?" Rojo grinned, drawing her arm back as she clenched her hand into a fist.

"How long have you been working here?" Gwen asked; mind racing as she tried to come up with a way to get herself out of this mess.

"What?" Rojo blinked.

Even Kevin had paused mid-stride in curiosity.

"Tell me, how long have you been working here?" She pressed.

"What's it to ya?"

"Well, if you've been here for a while already and you haven't "landed yourself a man" as you put it, maybe it's because the type of men here aren't really interested in landing a girl?"

"What are you saying?" Rojo glowered.

_I wish I knew myself._ Gwen mentally gulped before continuing "I'm just saying that you might be wasting your time here. I mean, you can't catch what's not there, can you?"

Rojo considered this very carefully, "Maybe you're right."

"So there's no need for you to rough me up, right?" Gwen reasoned hopefully.

"Wrong, hitting you will make me feel a lot better."

Kevin blinked in surprise when the smaller girl suddenly slammed her knee right into Rojo's stomach. The pale woman released her hold as she doubled over in pain.

"N-now I only had to do that out of necessity, I'm a firm believer that violence solves nothing." The red-head stated; clutching her things tightly to her chest as she quickly backed away.

"Oh you are so dead!" Rojo snarled as she lunged for Gwen.

Letting out a yelp, Gwen braced herself for impact but was surprised to find broad shoulders blocking her view of the larger woman.

"We can't have you killing the new girl on her first night on the job." Kevin gently scolded. He had caught Rojo by the wrists and wrenched them viciously behind her back. "I don't mind a good catfight, but do it _after_ the night's over. Our customers ain't the kind who likes to see girls all black and blue."

"But she's only here for one night." Rojo winced, doing her best not to struggle.

"That ain't my problem." Kevin whispered darkly before giving her wrist another twist, "Now, you're gonna forget this all happened, am I clear?"

"C-clear!" She gasped in pain.

"Good." With a benign smile, Kevin let her go. The flapper quickly stumbled away, trying to put as much distance between herself and Kevin.

"Um, th-thank you." Gwen's voice stammered from behind.

He cocked his head at her, a wide grin across his features. "For what?"

She looked at him in disbelief, wasn't it obvious what she was thanking him for? "You stopped that woman from attacking me."

"Is that what I did? Funny, I was just making sure the customers don't get greeted by a messed up face." He sneered. It was obvious he took great pleasure in how Gwen squirmed as she fought to control her temper. Her response, however, took him by surprise.

"You know what? I deserved that for talking to you so rudely earlier today." She smiled before averting her gaze to the floor. "I'm really sorry about that. And it's not just because you're the boss but because you really didn't deserve to be spoken to in the way I did."

"Was that you?" Kevin smirked, "I didn't recognize you, what with all the skin showing." It took a great amount of effort on his part not to burst out laughing as he watched her turn beet red.

Before Gwen could come up with a response, Charmcaster called out for Fingers and Rocky. Immediately the same two men that had accompanied Kevin in the park the other night appeared to respond. Wordlessly, they disappeared through the curtain into the shop front.

"What's going on?" Gwen blinked as the platinum-haired Madame entered.

"Nothing to worry yourself over, hun. Just some annoying little lapdog who escaped his leash." Charmcaster smiled at Gwen before noticing her state of distress. Amethyst eyes narrowed irritably at the dark-haired man standing across the red-head. "Am I to assume Rojo never got the chance to show Gwen the ropes?"

"That would be about right." Kevin grinned, not in the least perturbed by the glare Charmcaster shot at him.

The Madame swore under her breath, "Lemme give you the quick run-down, hun. You smile, you say good evening to the folks, you take their coats and hats if they got them and hand them over to any of the boys hanging around you. No flirting, no making eyes, no accepting drinks, and no accepting dances."

Charmcaster looked thoughtful for a moment, "Unless I personally say so. Got it, hun?"

"Basically I'm a living welcome mat." Gwen nodded.

"Nonsense, welcome mats don't need to be as pretty as you, hun." Charmcaster winked as she pinched Gwen's cheek.

"Um, th-thanks?" the red-head crimsoned, unsure if she had just received a backhanded compliment or insult.

"Good, as for your things, just toss them into the coat room. But knock first. Never know who's inside doing what." The platinum-haired woman warned. As Gwen went off to put away her things, Charmcaster glowered at Kevin. "I have enough on my plate as it is and I don't need you making things worse."

"I just made sure your new welcome mat wasn't missing any teeth. The least you could do is let me have some fun with her." He rolled his eyes.

"She's Tennyson's cousin!" The Madame hissed.

Kevin quirked a brow, so _that's_ what Charmcaster meant by lapdog. His eyes wandered towards the retreating figure of the red-head and he could hardly keep the wolfish smile from forming. He had already been interested in her, the way she had spoken to him so brashly earlier that day and the unexpected reason for her apology.

"I know that look on your face, Kevin. A blood grudge is the last thing we need." Charmcaster warned before adding "Besides, she doesn't look like the type you normally go for."

"Don't I always do what's _not_ expected of me?" he chuckled before heading to his private room.

--

**Author's Note:** A little explanation on Gwen being good with cards. Instead of having her being a techy and a sorceress, she's well read and really good with cards and other sleight of hand tricks. She is from a small town, not a country bumpkin though she and Ben have spent some Summers on a farm when they were kids. Also, huge creative liberties were taken with Charmcaster as I had intended for her to be cajun but could not for the life of me find a decent female cajun reference.

And yes, I absolutely adore the crack pairing of Charmcaster and Gwen but Kevin and Gwen still pretty much trumps EVERYTHING for me :3 Apologies if this chapter is a HUGE WALL OF TEXT. Blame my friend who proofs my stuff who declared that I should include the last part in this chapter as opposed to separating it into the next one.


	5. Heavy Sugar

**Author's Note:**

If this gets a bit dragging towards the end, I sincerely apologize for that.

--

**Chapter Five: Heavy Sugar**

The rust bucket sped down the city streets far above the speed limit but Ben didn't really care. He was more than steamed over the whole matter between him and his cousin. He was worried about her, it was only natural. She was family and she was his responsibility, even if she was a grown woman who, despite his better judgment, was capable of fending for herself.

It wouldn't have been so bad if Gwendolyn just hadn't gotten herself mixed up with the likes of Charmcaster. Ben never trusted the platinum-haired woman ever since she arrived from wherever it was she came from. There was something shifty about her and those skulls and bones she kept in her shop. Coupled with the rumors that she had an uncle who practiced dark arts, not that Ben believed in any of that nonsense.

What really worried Ben was that in working for Charmcaster she would inevitably run into Kevin. While he would be the first person to admit he didn't know his cousin very well, he knew Kevin Levin spelled big trouble. He only hoped Gwen would have the sense to stay away from him if they even crossed paths.

After several minutes of brooding, Benjamin arrived at his destination. It was an old one-story mansion that had fallen into disrepair over the years. The Pride family decided to purchase it shortly after the prohibition law was passed. Under Edwin's supervision, the mansion had been renovated into one of the city's most upscale restaurants. At least it was in the daytime.

Parking the car in his reserved spot, Ben easily strode in the main entrance. Passing by several dining guests, Ben quickly made his way to the kitchen where a portly man stood guard. A friendly wave greeted him before he was allowed access.

In the evening, the restaurant became the Speak Easy the Tricks ran: The Usual.

Beyond the dining area was a large ballroom where polished tiles spanned the floor. The walls were painted an elegant gold to match the chandeliers and light fixtures that brightened the entire room.

Ben could see that things had already begun to go into full swing. Cigars and cigarettes were lit, glasses were drained of their alcoholic content, and chips and cards were strewn all over tables. Several individuals were certainly enjoying themselves as the band played the music for the Charleston.

A bald, petite man with beady dark eyes approached Ben, "About time you arrived, Tennyson."

"Sorry for the hold up, Ike." Ben apologized. "Ran into a bit of trouble."

"I was informed you would be accompanied by a young lady?" Ike quirked a brow as he scanned the surroundings.

"_That_ would be the trouble."

"Oh my, come this way." Ike gestured as he led Ben towards a private booth at the far end of the ballroom.

"Ben, so glad you decided to show up." Edwin greeted, raising a glass of scotch to the young police officer. "I thought your cousin would be with you?"

"See, that's sorta why it took a while to get here." And Ben quickly explained the situation as he sat down beside a tall, stoic, muscular blonde. "So you gotta help me get Gwen outta there."

"I wouldn't worry too much. Charmcaster won't let anything happen to your cousin. I happen to know that the Madame takes very good care of her girls." Edwin explained.

Ben didn't look too reassured, "It's not Charmcaster or the people who go to her joint that worries me."

"Levin." The blonde man nodded.

"Unless Kevin discovers you're related to Gwen he shouldn't be too interested in her." He shrugged. "Now why don't you just calm down and have a drink?"

"Calm down? Calm _down_?! How can I calm down knowing that Gwen could be two feet from Kevin?"

"The boss made sure Julie's available for a dance or two." The blonde man added absently.

Ben felt heat sneak across his face along with a sheepish smile at the mention of the girl's name. "Then again, Gwen's a smart dame. I suppose cutting a rug with Julie for a while wouldn't hurt."

"Quick thinking, Casey." Edwin chuckled as the young police officer hurried away to dance with the dark haired flapper. As the song for the Lindy Hop began to play, Ike discreetly walked up to the gray-eyed gentleman.

Whispers were exchanged and Edwin's fist clenched in suppressed rage. Wordlessly, he exited the booth and headed for the garage where Ace waited, the car at the ready. Casey was quick to shadow his employer and sat at the passenger's seat while Ike was left behind to watch over things.

"Are you _certain_ it's Twinkles?" Edwin asked; eyes narrowed darkly as the vehicle roared down the street.

"Po-so-lute-ly boss." Ace nodded vehemently, "I mean at first I didn't think it was him what him being dead and all. And then we got a closer look and wouldn't you know it, it _was_ Twinkles. Funny name, Twinkles I mean. It ain't like he's got sparkly eyes or nothin'. I still say Slick would have been a better name for him but he insisted we call him Twi-"

The young driver's chatter was muffled as the blonde clamped a gloved hand over Ace's mouth.

"Thank you, Casey." Edwin rubbed his temples to ward off the beginning of a headache.

They continued to drive in silence, before eventually swerving off road and deep into the brush. After a few more minutes of driving across uneven terrain, they came to an abandoned vehicle smashed a tree.

The three stepped out of the car to inspect the wreck. The door to the driver's seat was splayed open, creaking softly with each stray breeze. Dried blood matted the steering wheel and gas pedals, and if it weren't for the day-old footprints leading away from the abandoned car they would have assumed the driver had been dumped into the backseat. Where they found a pool of blood had caked and stained the upholstery. Atop this crusty surface was the corpse of the one they called Twinkles.

"Someone sure did a number on him." Ace whistled; eyeing the small well-placed gashes in the deceased's neck and stomach.

"Pocket knife or switch blade maybe?" the blonde offered.

"You'd think he'd be able to handle the blade's equivalent of a pea shooter." Edwin murmured, "Did you check the trunk when you found it, Ace?"

"Sure did, boss. And like with Joey's, no sign of the hooch."

"Who was supposed to be driving with him?"

Ace looked nervous before stammering "N-no one."

"That idiot!" Edwin snarled in a rare display of emotion. "I gave strict instructions that no one was to work alone when picking up a delivery!"

"Twinkles liked to go solo, usually 'cuz he was trying to cozy up to one of Charmcaster's girls." Ace explained. "Says a partner just gets in the way."

"Casey when we get back I want you and Ike to remind everyone that I do _not_ tolerate disobedience in my gang." Edwin's voice was so dangerously cold that Ace shivered despite the warm, summer evening.

Casey nodded in understanding.

"Did you check where the footprints led?" Edwin eyed the faint trail.

Ace nodded, "Middle of nowhere but there was the box where our stuff should have been in. Figured it'd be better to burn it even if it don't got our names on it or nothing."

"Alright, let's skedaddle before anyone notices we're missing." Edwin ordered as the three quickly left the wreck to head back.

--

On the other side of the city, Gwendolyn felt like the proverbial fish out of water. All the women who had entered were done up in glamorous clothing or had their faces heavily painted, or both. They didn't even deign to acknowledge her; instead simply tossing their coats or fur stoles (gifts from the affluently dressed gentlemen they escorted, Gwen assumed) at her without a second glance. She supposed this indifference was much better than the openly mocking giggles and once-overs the other women made. And she most certainly preferred the looks of disdain over the lecherous glances and wolfish stares some of the men gave her.

Thankfully, Kevin would suddenly appear beside her to ward off any attempts at chatting her up. Gwen was grateful for his company and even if she would never admit it she actually enjoyed _his_ attention. He held himself with a confidence that was borderline arrogance. Normally Gwen found men who possessed that quality an irritant, but in the environment of the Speak Easy he was almost regal.

Gwen never thought herself capable of holding the focus of a man like Kevin. She was always one of the wallflowers in social gatherings, flocking to the group of women who preferred intellectually stimulating conversations over necking. Men like Kevin usually just breezed past her and for as long as she could remember, Gwen preferred it that way.

So it was only natural that she found it disconcerting that she didn't mind having his intense eyes resting on her. And that she actually _liked_ talking to him about little things she never noticed before like how the thicker a gal painted her face, the less likely she was married to the man she was seen with.

Perhaps what really intrigued and slightly frightened Gwen was his intentions. "You do realize I'm not like the other girls."

"You could have fooled me." He quirked a brow as his eyes took in her body.

"I mean," she blushed, feeling her heart skip a beat at the hunger in his gaze "That unless a ring is on my finger this is as much of me as you'll ever get to see."

"Never said I wanted to see the rest of you." He shrugged.

"Good, because I'm serious." She folded her arms across her chest, jutting her hip in a manner that was equally defiant as it was enticing.

Did she do that on purpose? Kevin couldn't even begin to understand how Gwen wasn't aware of how appealing a challenge was to a guy like him. And what a conquest _that_ would be. Her being Ben's cousin was simply the cherry on top. Eventually, Charmcaster managed to persuade Kevin to mingle with the crowd before their special guests arrive.

The other working girls were busy doing their jobs, offering drinks and flashing their most seductive come-hither smiles at the patrons. Rojo in particularly was giving it her all, sashaying into men or "accidentally" brushing her breasts against an arm or shoulder. Gwen noted that Rojo stayed far away from Kevin during his brief time on the floor. It was difficult for Gwen to believe the fearsome woman could be this much of a vamp and she had to admit it, the seasoned flapper was quite good at what she does.

Whether that in itself was something to be proud of, Gwen wasn't certain.

She would have little time to ponder on this subject as a trio of men suddenly appeared through the curtains. The oldest of the three was someone who, with the right lab coat, would be the quintessential image of a mad scientist. The graying hair, the wary gaze, all he needed was a crazed laugh to complete the look. The second man was a less imposing figure due to his diminutive size, barely reaching Gwen's hips. His wiry blonde hair had receded to the very back of his head. Thick, rimmed and _very_ unflattering glasses indicated his lack of vanity, and thankfully gave him no desire to don a toupee.

The third man was the youngest of the group. He had an air of sophistication about him and carried himself in an almost regal manner. Sleek, flaxen hair, perfectly styled to flatter his strong features and deep blue eyes.

It was this young man that Charmcaster fawned over sweetly.

"Mike Morningstar! I was about to think you weren't going to show up, hun." The Madame purred, tiptoeing to place a quick peck on the blonde man's cheek.

"This may not even begin to apologize for my tardiness." Morningstar flashed a charming smile at the platinum-haired woman and presented her with a slender package and a bouquet of roses. "But rest assured we intend to spend quite a long time here tonight."

The grin on Charmcaster's face widened, money tins ringing in her head.

"Maybe a young whelp like you can afford to stay out all the hours of the evening, but I have a strict schedule to maintain." The elderly gentleman grumbled, obviously unhappy about his present situation.

"I'm pleased as punch to see you here as well, Doctor Animo." The Madame gestured to Gwen and the other attendants to assist with relieving their guests of their coats. Wordlessly, she handed the gifts Morningstar had given her to one of the attendants and continued to focus her attention on the trio.

"The Usual was getting a mite crowded." Animo sniffed imperiously. "And all those hooligans doing that dang fangled Linder Hop give me headaches something fierce."

"I believe it's the Lindy Hop," The smaller gentleman corrected in a squeaky if not raspy voice. "You should really keep up with the times, Animo. Wouldn't want people to know what an old fossil you really are."

"Better a fossil than the poor man's Houdini." The doctor retorted.

"So you're the famous entertainer Sublimino?" Charmcaster cooed as she ushered the bespectacled blonde towards the set of plush seats cordoned off in the middle of the room.

"Famous entertainer. What a load of codswallop. He's nothing but a two-bit hack." Animo grumbled before following after them.

Mike just chuckled before resting his eyes on the red-haired flapper. "This is actually them getting along."

"You don't say?" Gwen replied in amusement, "Interesting company, you keep."

"They're more my business associates rather than friends." He explained, before introducing himself. "I'm Michael Morningstar, but feel free to call me Mike."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I'm Gwendolyn and feel free to call me Gwen." She smiled and offered her hand. Her cheeks blossomed red as Morningstar lifted her hand to his lips, in a manner reminiscent of those scenes in books about the golden age of chivalry. It was nice to know that even in these modern times, there were people she could aptly describe as a gentleman.

And suddenly there was a flash of rusty hair and glittering fabric. Rojo had sauntered up to the blonde gentleman and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Mike, baby, are you gonna keep me waiting _all_ night?" She batted her lids coyly.

"Of course not, Rojo." Morningstar assured her before turning to Gwen, who he found had quickly retreated back to her post.

The flapper giggled, pressing herself tight against Morningstar, "Now are you gonna buy me drink? Or do I have to get _rough_ with you?"

"It wouldn't be gentlemanly to keep a lady thirsty." He smiled, allowing his arm to wind around Rojo's hips. Together they walked towards the cordoned area, where he would come to find Charmcaster busy schmoozing his business associates.

"So you're saying I'd be reaching a wider audience if you and I were to team up?" Sublimino mused, before his mouth broadened into a manic grin. "Brilliant!"

"No, that would be basic business principles." Animo scoffed, "Why compete when you can simply team up and become stronger in the process? Though that would also mean having to cut the profit with your partners."

"It's not about the profit, it's about the fame!" Sublimino declared with excessive pomp and a flurry of hand gestures.

"Now gentlemen, I brought us here so that we could relax and not think about business." Mike laughed as he sat down on an armchair with Rojo sidling up to him on the armrest.

"Relaxing is for _old fossils_." Sublimino spat and ignored the glower from Animo, "I crave excitement! Attention! Why do you think I'm in show business?"

"If it's excitement you want, hun, why not a game of cards?" Charmcaster suggested. "Rojo, be a dear and see if there's an available table for us."

The flapper opened her mouth to protest but the stern glare of the Madame quickly sent her scurrying off.

"You seem to have found a new girl since the last time I dropped by." Mike absently noted, his eyes wandering towards the red-haired girl.

"New is right, she's not quite ready to be broken in yet."

"She's probably just like all the others. Women these days don't know their place in the world anymore." Animo shook his head in regret.

Charmcaster opted to ignore the barbs in the elderly man's words. "Of course, so you can understand why I've kept her out of the way."

"I'm pretty keen for someone different. Nothing against Miss Rojo, but she strikes me as too much of a gold digger." Mike admitted.

"Aren't _all_ women gold diggers deep down?" Sublimino snickered.

The platinum-haired woman didn't so much as bat an eye at the misogynistic turn of conversation. "Oh you slay me," she giggled, "But since we're on the subject of gold, hun, how much is it worth to you to have the greenhorn's company?"

"Would half a dozen bottles from your most expensive selection be enough?"

"Make it an _even_ dozen, and I'll actually let you win one round of cards."

"A victory isn't much unless..." Mike trailed off, and his deep blue eyes suddenly shone in challenge, "Unless one Mister Levin joins us."

--

"No." Kevin growled over his glass of bourbon.

"It's just one game of cards, hun." Charmcaster reasoned.

"And I'm supposed to fold in one of the rounds? To _Morningstar_?"

"No, hun, you don't. I told him _I'd_ let him win one round. Never said you would." Exploiting loopholes was one of the many skills Charmcaster had often made use of.

"The answer's still the same. Nothin' doing." He narrowed his eyes darkly at the Madame. "Now scram."

Charmcaster shrugged as she started to saunter out of the private room, "It's just as well since the new girl would be too much of a distraction for you."

"Back up a bit." He barked. "I thought you ain't gonna use Tennyson's cousin."

"What's one greenhorn compared to the wads of cash Morningstar'll be forking over, hun?" She grinned. "Besides with Mike having the chance to break her in, he might even drop by more often."

"Eleventh room." Kevin declared sourly before downing his bourbon. "Make sure no one's in my seat when I get there."

"Sure thing, hun." She winked. Charmcaster did so love getting her way and she headed straight for the young woman idly chatting with the other attendants.

"How you holding up, hun?" The Madame asked, hands resting firmly on the younger woman's bare shoulders.

"Fine, peachy even."

"Good to hear, good to hear. Listen, how does doubling what I was going to pay you sound?"

"It sounds nifty, but what's the catch?" Gwen didn't like the predatory smile on Charmcaster's face. The red-head's look of apprehension widened as she was led from the entrance to one of the private rooms where the number Eleven had been etched above the door. The moment the doors swung open, Gwen was assaulted by the strong odor of tobacco. She coughed, waving the thick tendrils of smoke away.

Once her vision cleared, she saw a round, felt-covered table where stacks of chips and a deck of card waited. Eight seats circled the table, and four were occupied. Sublimino sat on several cushions, enabling him to actually see the tabletop while his legs dangled midair. He was raving about his outstanding performance to a young girl, glassy-eyed from boredom but maintaining a polite if not fake smile. Thankfully, the bespectacled man liked hearing the sound of his own voice too much to care whether his audience was really listening or not.

"All you need to do is keep Morningstar happy." Charmcaster explained, giving the young woman a reassuring pat.

"H-happy how?"

"Normally, I'd tell you to let him be all hands. But I think it'd be best if you just be yourself." Charmcaster glanced at the sulking Rojo who had been relegated to be the equally surly Animo's companion for the rest of the evening. Rojo didn't care much for Animo's aversion to spending and the Doctor would have preferred a girl who was sweeter, and less capable of bumping him off should he press his luck.

Before Gwen could say anything else, she was seated beside the debonair young man. A dazzling display of pearly teeth, and Gwen fought to keep her composure.

"Looks like you got saddled with me." She sheepishly smiled.

"Saddled wouldn't be the word I'd use." His eyes radiated an easy charm and Gwen appreciated how he made no move to touch her unlike the other patrons had with the other girls. He kept his hands folded neatly on the table and engaged in a conversation with her. They spoke of the changing times and debated whether or not the prohibition law was doing any good for the country.

"You don't strike me as the typical flapper girl." Morningstar admitted.

"R-really? Why would you say that?"

"I could say that it's because your dress isn't as short as the other girls' or that your visage lacks any trace of paint. But I believe it's how you carry yourself."

"Just means she's got class." Kevin's voice sneered in open contempt.

"Ah, Mister Levin. How kind of you to grace us with your presence. I've been frequenting Madame Charmcaster's Speakeasy for a while now and I haven't had the opportunity of meeting you in person. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I intimidated you into hiding." The sudden snide tone Morningstar spoke with was jarring for Gwen. The ease of the switch from the calm, civil gentleman to this sardonic, hostile individual was all too many shades of Jekyll and Hyde. The red head was beginning to rethink her perception on Morningstar.

"Intimidate? Nah. Blinded by your choppers maybe." He shrugged, "Though I gotta apologize to you. I'm not usually seen with the small fry."

"Gentlemen!" Charmcaster interrupted, "Shall we get the game started?"

"Finally," Animo grumbled, "I was beginning to think you were all wasting my time."

"Good to see your mug in my joint again, Doc." Kevin nodded as he sat at the empty seat directly across Morningstar's.

"What branch of medicine do you practice?" Gwen asked Animo.

"I'm a horse doctor. But I've been known to dabble with _other_ life forms on occasion." He grinned at her in a manner Gwen could only describe as macabre. She shivered, regretting she had even asked.

The cards were dealt and the game began. Charmcaster played the dealer and as promised, Morningstar won one round. Eventually, Animo and Sublimino folded out of the game, deciding that they could no longer afford to lose anymore than what they already have.

"I have work in the morning, but it's nothing any of you would know." Animo muttered as he stalked off. Rojo took this opportunity to situate herself beside Morningstar.

"Rojo's back to take care of you, baby." She purred, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"That's rather nice of you." Mike smiled.

The older flapper glared daggers at Gwen. _Scram!_ They declared.

Recalling her earlier tussle with the fierce woman, Gwen looked to Charmcaster for help. The Madame seemed oblivious to Gwen's plight, but the dark-haired man wasn't.

"Why don't you sit beside me, Gwen? I'm sure Mikey's got his hands full." Kevin suggested, motioning to the empty seat beside him.

"Wait a moment, here! I had a deal with Charmcaster that Gwen would keep me company for the evening." Morningstar frowned and silenced the protest Rojo was about to make with a sharp glare.

Gwen gave the Madame a look of disbelief before glancing at the blonde man.

"Oh yeah? Last I remember I _own_ the place." Kevin wasn't about to back down.

"Why don't we play for her company?" Morningstar proposed.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Gwen demanded, rising from her seat indignant.

"You're right, that was rude of me. Miss Gwendolyn, would you be so kind as to grace the winner of the next game with your presence?" Morningstar got to one knee in apology.

Gwen just stared down at Mike in a mixture of contempt and shock. No matter how sugar-coated the words were, he still spoke of her as a prize. She would have been less offended if it had been Kevin who offered the idea as the dark-haired man never made himself out to be this polished, chivalrous man. It was obvious to Gwen that Morningstar was nothing more than a hypocrite who preyed on naïve, inexperienced and less-read women.

Taking a deep breath, she agreed. "On two conditions. The first being that regardless who wins, the rest of the deal is to be honored."

Charmcaster brightened, pleased that Gwen was thinking of the Speak Easy's finances.

"And the second condition is that _I_ be the dealer."

While it struck everyone in the room as odd, no one saw any reason to object. Gwen was careful in the way she shuffled the cards. She had to make it appear she was just an ordinary girl who in no way could fix the way the cards were dealt.

It was a simple enough task for Gwen to dole out a Royal Flush to Kevin and a measly pair of three's to Mike.

"Looks like I win." Kevin grinned as Gwen turned up the last card to reveal an Ace of hearts.

Morningstar's jaw clenched, he couldn't declare foul play for not only was Gwen new, but it also that meant he hadn't been able to properly charm the red-head. And his pride wouldn't allow him that luxury of admitting he wasn't as suave and debonair as he believed himself.

"I've grown tired of playing cards." Mike declared and pulled Rojo to him as he left the room. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, Miss Gwendolyn. Hopefully you'll still be around the next time I decide to grace this establishment with my money."

Charmcaster, who had been doing her best to keep herself from laughing, finally let loose a loud guffaw as the doors closed after the blonde. "Good Lord, when you flipped open that Queen I was half-expecting him to pitch a fit."

"Lady Luck must have been on Kevin's side." Gwen shrugged, carefully keeping a smile from cracking across her face.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say _you_ were Lady Luck herself." Kevin eyed the young woman in keen interest.

"You _could_ say that." The first-time flapper allowed herself a triumphant grin as she started to perform the one-hand card cut with practiced ease.

"Hun, you just landed yourself a new gig as a dealer." Charmcaster nodded before groaning, "Oh damn that means I'm going to need to find _more_ girls."

There came a knock and Fingers peeked in, "The lapdog's back."

Gwen cocked her head in confusion before feeling Kevin's hand rest on her shoulders. "I believe Fingers here means your ride has arrived."

"Ben's back? Does this mean I'm getting paid now?" She asked.

"Come back tomorrow for your share, hun. I've gotta recount how much I owe you since your promotion." Charmcaster chuckled.

"Wait, didn't I win you for the rest of the evening?" Kevin frowned.

Strangely, Gwen found this endearing. She had cheated to get Kevin to win so it was only fair she upheld her end of the deal, "Um, maybe you could show me around the city tomorrow instead?"

Kevin could actually let Ben _see_ them together _in broad daylight_. Lady Luck truly _was_ on his side tonight. "Copacetic! Lemme know where you live and I'll pick you up around noon?"

"Nifty," Gwen beamed and allowed the dark-haired man to escort her outside.

Ben was not happy with the sight of his cousin with Kevin's arm draped around her shoulders.

"Get in the car, Gwen. Now." He barked.

"You sure that thing ain't gonna break down before you get home?" Kevin snickered.

"Yuck it up, Kevin. But tonight's the last night you'll ever get to see my cousin because she's not coming back here tomorrow."

"Um, Ben, I hate to break this to you but..." Gwen began.

"Car. Now."

The young woman gave Kevin an apologetic look as she got into the rust bucket. Ben quickly followed suit but before they left, Kevin rested his elbow atop the roof.

He spoke low enough to only have the young officer hear. "Listen Tennyson, I just wanted to remind you about the age-old tradition we have. Whenever you take one of our boys, or in this case _girls_, we make sure to take one from yours. Just to even the score."

"Is that a threat?" Ben growled.

"Call it friendly advice. I wouldn't want to have to explain to Edwin why The Usual is suddenly one girl short." Kevin grinned before righting himself, "Goodnight, Gwen. See you tomorrow at noon."

Ben drove off in a hurry and the first thing he asked was "What did he mean by seeing you tomorrow at noon?"

Gwen sighed. This was certainly going to be a long drive home.


	6. Line

**Author's Note:**

Warning, this is going to be another wall of text! I would like to give a big thank you to my friend and fellow fanfic author **blue c 84** who was willing to subject herself to be my sounding board. She had also helped me hammer out a timeline as well as whatever semblance to a plot this fic possesses. She says she doesn't need acknowledgement but I say she does. Also, go read her fics!

--

**Chapter Six: Line**

Ben was not happy. Not happy in the least. How had his cousin managed to get caught up in the shady business of speakeasies _and_ get mixed up with the worst possible crowd?

"Here I thought you had smarts." The brunette muttered over the steering wheel.

"Excuse me?" Gwen quirked a brow.

"What were you thinking applying for a job on your vacation? And at Charmcaster's to boot? As if _that_ wasn't bad enough you let that chump Levin get his paws all over you!"

Normally, Gwen would have let Ben's little outburst slide. Her cousin was just worried about her and being overly protective as men were expected to be of women. And she understood why Ben would be so worked up about her place of employment. But to accuse her of lacking restraint where Kevin was involved?

That was simply uncalled for!

The red-head's emerald eyes flashed in anger, "Now listen here, Benjamin Tennyson! I am a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. I am not that little girl you used to push into the mud. And even if I were, you of all people should know I _fight back_. This is _my_ vacation and whatever I choose to spend my time on and whoever I choose to spend it with is none of your beeswax!"

"It wouldn't be if you weren't going to make the biggest mistake in your life!" Ben spat, "Kevin is dangerous, Gwen, and I'm not saying that as your cousin, I'm saying it as a police officer. Anyone who works in a speakeasy isn't to be trusted. You don't know how many people he and his gang have made _disappear_ over the past few years."

"If he's so dangerous, why hasn't he been locked up?" The woman demanded sourly.

Ben couldn't tell her about the higher ranking officers Kevin had in his pocket. It just wouldn't do to tarnish the badge's reputation especially when no one wanted to do anything about it. "You wouldn't understand."

"Oh I understand perfectly." She narrowed her eyes before looking away, voice dripping with sarcasm. "A small town girl couldn't possibly begin to fathom the intricate inner-workings of big city politics."

"That's not what I mean." The brunette sighed as they finally arrived at the house, "There're just a lot of things, confidential things that I can't tell a civilian. At least not if I want to stay on the force."

Gwendolyn glanced at her cousin to study the grim look on his face. Maybe there was some merit to his words and maybe he did have good reason to worry about her working in a speakeasy. As much as she prided herself in her judgment and independence, blood was thicker than water. She'd talk to the Madame about the conditions of her employment tomorrow.

"I appreciate your concern, Ben, really I do. I know you're only looking out for me and I trust that you have my best interest in mind. I would just like it if you could trust me back. If I find myself way in over my head, I'll just give them a resignation letter." She promised him.

"That's not the way things work in those joints." Ben shook his head.

"You sure know an awful lot about speakeasies for someone who's so adamantly against them." Gwen remarked with a teasing grin.

"I never said I was against speakeasies. I just don't like Levin's." He clarified. "Look, all I'm saying is Kevin's part of a really bad crowd and I just don't want to see you get hurt."

She laughed good-naturedly before exiting the vehicle. "I highly doubt Mr. Levin is capable of charming me enough to break my heart."

"Who said anything about breaking your heart? I meant finding you floating facedown in the east river." Ben sighed to himself before following after his cousin.

--

Elsewhere on the penthouse floor of an apartment high-rise, Michael Morningstar leaned against the picture window overlooking New York City. He stared down at the sights with cold, calculating eyes, their gaze constantly returning to the general vicinity of Kevin Levin's speakeasy. Living the easy life with things being handed to him on a silver platter, Mike was not accustomed to rejection. And the blonde was certain he did not like it.

Had this been a mere business transaction gone awry, Mike wouldn't have minded the way the evening had turned out. Business was business and his father had taught him at an early age that when deals go sour it should not be taken to heart. Learn from your mistakes and make certain you never repeat them.

But what transpired that evening was anything _but_ business. It was personal. To the sole heir of the Morningstar Motors vast fortune, it was an affront to his charm, his intelligence and his character. He was not going to let this slide so easily.

Mike frowned in distaste when he felt pale arms slowly slide over his bare chest from behind.

"Mike, baby, I'm cold being all alone in that big bed." Rojo purred, pressing her naked body against him.

"Then put some clothes on." He hissed, annoyed at having his thoughts interrupted.

Rojo glowered snidely, "Gee, you sure know how to show a gal a good time."

The athletic flapper pulled away in a huff, muttering "Just because I ain't new don't mean I ain't worth nothing." She began to gather her things scattered all over the bedroom, "I thought we had something. Wasn't that why you always picked me over all the other girls?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Rojo." Mike laughed, "You're fantastic in the sack, but that's all you'll ever be good for as far as I'm concerned."

He reached out to catch an incoming fist aimed at his jaw before smoothly twisting the flapper's arm viciously behind her back. The serene smile on his face sent ominous chills down the woman's spine. "That little stunt took gumption, Rojo. Maybe you _can_ be worth something."

--

The bright rays of morning sunshine flooded the guest bedroom in the Tennyson household. But the shafts of light found no sleeping Gwendolyn lying on the already made bed. Instead, they found her in the kitchen, apron strings wound tight around the waist of the simple, light blue cotton dress she wore. The stove burned cheerily as bacon and eggs sunny-side up hissed in an oil-slick frying pan.

"What's with the Betty Crocker routine?" Ben stared quizzically as he strode towards the table where a pot of freshly brewed coffee and a plate of toast awaited him.

"Just my way of saying I appreciate the concern." Gwen smiled, setting down the plate of food onto the table before retrieving the butter.

The brunette eagerly began to dig in, for once enjoying a homemade meal that didn't involve ingredients that used to wriggle and crawl underground.

"It's also an apology for what's going to happen for the rest of my stay." The red-head continued before untying the apron and sitting down across her cousin. "I thought over what you said last night and I agree that working in a speakeasy isn't the most respectable of choices."

"So why the apology?" Ben asked in between mouthfuls of eggs.

Gwen smiled wanly, "Unlike you, I grew up in a small town where everyone knows what everyone else is doing. One of the reasons I wanted to come to the big city is to go wild and crazy, without completely compromising my morals of course. I guess I just want to do things that I wouldn't do back home."

The brunette shook his head, "Look, if working in a speakeasy is _that_ important to you, I know someone who can-"

"I know I just said I wanted to do things I wouldn't do back home, but taking charity isn't something I'll _ever_ do." Gwen stated flatly, "Anyway I have decided to keep working at Charmcaster's for the rest of my stay. And you don't have to worry about me fending off the men. No one seemed all that interested in me apart from Mike."

Ben blinked, the name rang a bell but he couldn't quite remember why. "Who's Mike?"

"Oh, Michael Morningstar, he apparently cut a deal with Charmcaster that I was going to keep him _happy_ for the rest of the evening. But thankfully, I didn't have to do anything of the sort." She finished hastily. Gwen decided it was best not to mention Kevin's involvement in the whole issue.

"You met Morningstar? That cat's a big shot but I hear he's also a real cake-eater." He frowned.

"Isn't there _anyone_ you approve of?" the red-head chuckled, "Anyway, you don't have to worry your pretty little head about that pill. I got promoted from greeter to card dealer."

Ben looked worried, "Card dealers are actually in more danger than the flappers."

"Why do you say that?"

"It would depend on the table you're dealing for, but let's just say that if you deal a bad hand to the wrong person..." Ben simply shaped his hand into a gun, before mimicking it going off.

Gwen stared suspiciously. Those things only happen in books or radio shows, not in real life. "Are you trying to razz me, Ben?"

"No, no, just trying to give you a possible scenario," He quickly reasoned. "Anyway, just promise me you'll be extra careful around Kevin."

"If I do, will you give this whole thing a rest?" Gwen rested her chin on her palm.

"Po-so-lutely." He nodded, "Thanks for the grub and now I gotta scram before the chief lays down anymore paperwork on my desk."

--

"My, my, someone's looking mighty dapper." Charmcaster grinned from behind the shop counter as Kevin emerged through the curtains, dressed to the nines. Suit freshly pressed, shoes newly polished, if the Madame didn't know any better she'd say Kevin was genuinely trying to impress Gwen as opposed to just getting under Ben's skin. "Exactly what kind of sights are you planning on showing her, hun?"

Kevin just smirked as he set his fedora smartly atop his dark hair. "I'm leaving Fingers and Rocky to watch over the joint. Make sure they don't get into trouble, Charmcaster." He instructed before slipping out the door and into the chauffeured car parked out front.

Charmcaster followed after him just until the doorway. Leaning against the frame, the shop proprietress reminded "You better not break her in too quickly. I haven't made enough money off of her yet."

The dark-haired man just laughed, "Good to see you know your priorities. Let's go, Sparks."

"Soitenly, boss." The youth seated behind the steering wheel nodded.

"And Sparks?"

"Yeah boss?" the driver asked, looking over his shoulders.

"Take that damn thing off, it ain't gonna make you look like a fly boy anymore than it would a bum." Kevin gestured to the imitation aviator helmet and goggles Sparks wore.

Offended, Sparks faced forward and frowned. Nevertheless, he did as he was told and freed his unruly mop of soot-colored locks from the confines of the helmet. No one said no to Kevin Levin, especially not someone in his own gang. Once removed, Sparks started up the car and drove off to their destination.

Over at said destination, Gwendolyn had gotten herself prepared for her little liaison with Kevin the moment her cousin had gone off to work. She decided to make some alterations to one of her own clothes using the dress Charmcaster had given her the previous night as a basis.

The sleeves were shortened to above her elbows while the hem of the skirt was raised just a few inches above her shins. The collar, originally a mock turtle neck, had been lowered and widened to make her clavicle visible at certain angles. The changes weren't anything drastic for the dress still reflected Gwen's sense of modesty. Even if the fabric did hug her hips perfectly and flattered the soft curves of her chest.

She was ready for a day of sight seeing and hoped Kevin didn't mind if she acted like the utter tourist she was. Glancing again at the clock and found it was quarter to twelve, the red-head went downstairs to wait in the kitchen. She wondered if she should invite him in for lunch but decided against that idea as she envisioned Ben blowing a gasket when he found out.

The sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway caught her attention and Gwen felt gossamer wings stir in her stomach. The doorbell rang and the young woman reminded herself not to answer too quickly. She didn't want the dark-haired man to think she was _eager_ or anything.

_Remember, you're only doing this because you cheated someone in a card game._ She told herself while gathering her gloves and purse before slowly answering the door.

"Ready?" Kevin grinned, offering the crook of his arm to the young woman. As she accepted, Gwen couldn't help but think how dashing the dark-haired man could be in the right light. Still, she had to remind herself about her promise to her cousin and sneaking a glance at the wolfish smile on Kevin's face, Gwendolyn saw the merit in the precaution.

Sparks had gotten out of the car and held the door open for the couple. Once he was back behind the wheel, he turned to Kevin and asked "Where to?"

The dark-haired man contemplates for a moment, "Have you gotten a bite to eat yet, Gwen?"

"Ah, no I haven't. I was planning on making lunch but lost track of time." she hoped he wouldn't ask what she had been doing to lose track. It was embarrassing for her to admit it was because she was getting ready for this little tour.

"That settles it then, Sparks, take us to Driscoll's."

"Soitenly!" The youth grins before putting the pedal to the metal.

Much to Gwen's dismay as she was not quite accustomed to riding in such speeds. Instinctively she clung to the nearest object which was at the moment Kevin's arm. Not that he was complaining for he gave no instructions for his driver to slow down.

To keep herself from picturing gruesome automobile-related accidents, Gwen struck up a conversation about the first thing that came into her mind. "Do you like apple pie?"

"What?" Kevin quirked a brow as he stared down at the woman whose face seemed to have lost all color.

"I, I mean, that is to say-" she stammered as the color gradually returned to her cheeks, if only out of sheer embarrassment. "Can we please slow down?"

The dark-haired man chuckled and motioned for Sparks to ease up on the gas. Again the driver frowned and again he obeyed.

"Better?" Kevin asked.

Gwendolyn nodded then quickly realized she was still tightly clutching at Kevin's arm. She let go, primly folding her hands on her lap while wishing the car seat would swallow her. "S-sorry, I'm just more accustomed to walking."

"Don't sweat it. You're with Kevin Levin today, kid. And I don't do walking." He grinned. Gwen was certainly nothing like the other girls he'd been with. They used every excuse in the book to press up against him or accidentally brush up to him. They were experienced in the art of seduction and didn't hesitate to turn on the charm whenever they set their sights on him.

The girls on the other side of the spectrum, the side Kevin assumed Gwen came from, didn't really interest Kevin. As far as he saw them, they were bores, real Mrs. Grundy-types. No sense of adventure or fun or any kind of excitement. Heck, they weren't even real challenges. All he ever needed to do was give them a disarming smile and they practically melted into bed with him. Granted it took a while longer to convince them but he found the time invested wasn't worth the lay.

But Gwen, well, Kevin had seen she was a real livewire underneath those yards of fabric. He knew she was smart, having not fallen for Morningstar's syrupy charm said something about her intelligence and judgment of character. He wanted to know what else was hidden behind the sweet smiling lips and those bright, emerald eyes.

Driscoll as it turns out was the owner of a successful chain of hotels that he had named perhaps vainly after himself. It was in the hotel's restaurant that Kevin chose to dine whenever he was aiming to impress a girl.

And impressed Gwen certainly was. She had never expected to ever step foot in such a sophisticated establishment this early in her lifetime. But she kept a straight face, expression a careful blank. This was because Gwen's pride wouldn't allow her to show how easy it is to overwhelm her and sweep her off her feet. And in no way did it mean she was playing hard to get, because saying so would indicated there was something between them, which there _wasn't_ apart from last night's game.

At least that was what the red-head told herself as they were escorted to a reserved table looking out at the river bay.

The maitre d handed them both menus while mentioning the day's specials. Kevin handed back the leather-bound booklet, declaring "I'll just have my usual."

"And what will the lady have?"

Gwen had to keep herself from gasping at the prices listed. If the clothes were expensive the food was just outrageous! She was just grateful she was going to get her money tonight and could use the pitiful amount she had brought with her.

As if sensing her discomfort, Kevin told the attendant "She'll have the catch of the day."

"Ah, excellent choice. Your orders shall be with you shortly." The waiter retrieved the menu from Gwen before shuffling off to the kitchen.

"Kevin, I don't know if I can afford the catch of the day." Gwen frowned, miffed that he had the nerve to assume he had the liberty to order for her.

"You're something else, Gwen. Aside from walking, I don't do Dutch Treat." Kevin chuckled.

"Is there anything else you don't do?" She asked, allowing a smirk to creep across her lips.

"Tons. Like losing, sharing, and not getting my way." He leered. "How about you? Is there anything Gwendolyn Tennyson don't do?"

"Doesn't." She found herself correcting him, "And to be quite honest, I don't normally allow anyone but good friends to treat me to a meal. No such thing as a free lunch and all that jazz. But today I'm willing to make an exception."

"Aw, how sweet. You find me special." he teased.

"Indeed I do."

Gwen was expecting an awkward silence to fall upon them at some point. But they had finished their meal and were driving towards Liberty Island and the dreaded moment when they ran out of things to talk about never came. The red-head found Kevin absolutely intriguing if not a bit rough around the edges and brusquer than the kind of man she was accustomed to interacting.

She had noted how he restrained himself from touching her. The only times they came into contact was when she would absently tap him on the shoulder to ask about something or when she lost her balance climbing up the stairs to Lady Liberty's crown. Perhaps Kevin truly just wanted her company and nothing more. Gwendolyn appreciated this the most and allowed herself to lower her guard around him.

Kevin wouldn't believe it possible but there was someone who was genuinely interested in getting to know him without having an ulterior motive. Gwen wasn't trying to weasel her way into the gang or trying to break it apart the way some of the other girls were. There was no malice in her questions or thoughts, just a bit of sarcasm here and there, which gave her character in Kevin's opinion.

He had watched her take in the sights with a certain naivety that was as foreign as it was fascinating to him. And he saw that though she tried to maintain a fair, nonjudgmental outlook, she couldn't keep herself from making cutting remarks that would have left a lesser man speechless.

"Say Gwen, I've been wondering why a dame like you tried for work at Charmcaster's."

"It was really all just a big misunderstanding. I didn't know the clothing store was just a front and that the real business was the, you know," she blushed, "But I'll be in New York for a few more weeks and I'm going to need money if I want to enjoy my stay here. I figured why not give it a shot since I was already there."

"You're not going to live in New York?" Kevin wasn't certain if this bit of news was good or bad.

"No, I'm going back home to Bellwood in a few weeks. I won't be able to handle the excitement of big city living anyway. I might burn out like a candle on the longest night of the year." She laughed. "I did tell Charmcaster all I wanted was part-time work, I suppose I should remind her of that when we get back. What about you, Kevin? How did you come to be in the business?"

Earth-hued eyes looked away to stare at the horizon as a tense silence fell between them.

"I'll understand if it's something you'd rather not say." Gwen leaned in close towards Kevin and whispered, "After all, I wouldn't want you to get into trouble with the law."

He turned to face her and she winked, "My job's at stake too."

After they returned from the Statue of Liberty, Kevin ordered Sparks to head back to the speakeasy. "Tell Charmcaster I might be a bit late in bringing her card dealer back."

"Soitenly, boss." Sparks saluted and grabbed his helmet and goggles before leaving the two with the car.

"Hop in," Kevin instructed to Gwen as he got into the driver's seat.

Gwen stared at him in disbelief, "Only if you promise that we won't end up getting totaled."

Kevin laughed, wondering how long it was since the last time he had laughed this much without bloodshed being involved. "Scouts honor."

"Funny," She grinned, "I wouldn't have considered you for a boy scout."

"Never even got one badge." The dark-haired proudly declared as he tossed his fedora into the backseat before driving off.

The vehicle arrived at a derelict building near the Brooklyn Bridge. Two out of the four walls had long collapsed and the roof had caved in onto the third floor.

"What is this place?" Gwen asked as she got out of the car.

"You asked me how I got into the business and this is how. Well, sorta." Kevin quietly explained. "This _used_ to be my home before my parents died in a fire. It happened when I was really small and turns out I didn't have no other family to turn to so's I had to learn how to take care of myself. Real fast."

He pointed to the bridge suspended over the water, "I used to sell newspaper with some of the other kids and then my late boss, God rest his soul, saw me fast talking my way outta trouble. I pinched a wallet I think? I don't really remember what the whole deal was about but it caught his eye and then he gave me an offer to be part of his gang.

"I took it. Started out as an errand boy and mostly did odd jobs. Bringing this and that from one place to another. Took a while before I managed to rise in the ranks and even longer to get the trust of the old timers like Fingers and Rocky. Eventually they saw me as one of their own and well, the boss was sorta making me to be his next-in-line cuz he ain't got no kids of his own.

"He had this sixth sense about things because a night before this meeting went down, he told everyone in the gang that if anything went wrong, I was to take charge. We all laughed and thought the boss was just trying to get us to relax.

"No one saw it coming. The meeting was a set up and well, yeah I became the next boss. That was almost four or five years ago but it still bothers me that the boss had to go that way. He still had so much to teach and so much territory to take over." Kevin added in an attempt to lighten the suddenly somber mood.

He stared out at the orange-stained sky as the sun slowly sank behind the bridge.

"I'm sorry I made you remember such sad things." Gwen murmured as she rested her head against his shoulders. "If it's worth anything, your boss sounded like a very smart, insightful man."

It didn't escape Kevin that Gwen didn't say that his boss was a good man. He would have questioned her common sense if she had. He smiled a small smile when he felt Gwen link her arm with his. She was falling for him, he could feel it.

"Yeah, the boss was really something." He nodded.

"Today was really something too." Gwen beamed before adding shyly, "And so are you."

He smirked, "I know."

"You were supposed to say "You too, Gwen." like in those radio shows." She corrected him with a wily grin, "But I'll just pretend you did so as not to spoil the moment."


	7. Balled Up

**Chapter Seven: Balled Up**

Benjamin Tennyson's day was filled with a stack of paperwork interspersed with calls from disgruntled New Yorkers. It was just another day for Ben and as the afternoon rolled in he was just about ready to head home. That is until Lieutenant Phil called him into his office again.

The rookie guessed the senior officer just wanted to ask how his evening went and truth be told, Ben had no idea what to tell Phil. How does one tell a police lieutenant that the cousin he promised to keep out of trouble has somehow managed to get herself in the very thick of things? Maybe he could lie, pretend none of it ever happened? No, he couldn't do that, and it wasn't for a lack of fibbing skills.

Ben just didn't want to risk getting his badge taken away should Phil manage to wring the truth out of him. Maxwell Tennyson wasn't the only cop on the force known for breaking people in the interrogation room. The young man assumed his best bet would be to simply omit certain facts about the previous evening and avoid giving out specific details.

After a knock and hearing permission to enter, Ben takes a deep breath before turning the knob and entering Phil's office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Indeed I do, Ben, come on in." Phil motioned for the brunette to close the door behind him before the older man grabbed another cigar from his shirt pocket. Ben did as he was instructed and sat down, noting the rather distracted look on the older man's face. "How was last night?"

Ben gulped, hopefully not audibly, as he forced a bright grin, "We had a real swell time. Really gave folks a run for their money."

"Good to hear, good to hear," Phil murmured as he shuffled through a sheaf of papers on his desk. An awkward silence fell upon the room, but it seemed only Ben noticed it. Phil was too busy contemplating something as he studied a dossier while glancing at the brunette every now and again.

"Is there anything else, sir?" Ben asked.

Phil looked unsure but eventually he set the dossier on the table right where Ben could reach it. "Well, actually there is, Ben. I have a favor to ask of you and this is just between you and me, kid. Real hush-hush stuff, I don't want anyone but you to know about it. You got me?"

The brunette felt his eyes widen eagerly as he nodded while fighting the excited grin trying to crack across his face. He was going to be added to an important case! And a _big_ one, judging by the grim expression on Phil's face.

"Take a gander at what's inside." Phil instructed, pushing lightly at the folder.

Ben reached out to set the dossier onto his lap. Inside were a series of notes and several photographs of women. Dead women. The notes attached were from the coroner, detailing each method of death. The bloated corpse was obviously from a drowning, the woman with ligature marks around her neck had been strangled, and perhaps the most brutal of all was the last image. The young girl's hands and feet were nothing more than stubs and the flesh on her face had been skinned.

"Not a pretty sight, is it?" Phil took a deep puff of his cigar, "We've recently added another one to the list. Someone bums said they found her near the outskirts of town, poor thing bled out from all the bullets she took." He tossed another picture and an ordinary-looking envelope onto the table.

Ben felt a chilling realization when he saw the girl. Her face was paler than he remembered but she had the same nose, same cheekbones. He knew her as a Flapper girl from Charmcaster's, the very same one Twinkles had been seeing. The rookie cop recalled how the runner-slash-driver would often brag about his latest dame and how it was almost like sleeping with the enemy.

Once again, Ben studied the other photos and his eyes widened when he recognized two of the other victims. They had been girls working at Edwin's speakeasy a few months ago, they stopped coming but Ben just thought they decided they've had enough fun and got a different job. The brunette never got himself involved with the way Edwin ran his speakeasy and he wasn't about to start prying.

After seeing this, maybe he ought to.

The envelope contained nothing more than the same photo of the late Twinkles' girl.

"Here's the favor I'm asking of you," Phil began, "I need you to lose that envelope in Charmcaster's place sometime after work."

"What?!" Ben couldn't help himself as he stared in absolute shock.

"I'd do it myself but I'm a little busy trying to make sense of this whole mess of dead flapper girls. No one seems to be calling in asking about them so thankfully the press hasn't caught wind of it." Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You'd think it's a good thing that none of these women have families, but that makes finding things out about them a real doozy."

"But sir, why would you give such important information to _Charmcaster_?" Ben gawked.

"I wouldn't say it's giving away information as much as it is indirectly warning them about the danger. I know you're familiar with the speakeasies, The Usual in particular since you're great pals with the Pride boy, and you'd know they wouldn't accept our help. What more for Levin?" The lieutenant explained.

"No offense, sir, but won't they take it as a sort of threat?"

"Don't you worry about that, you're using this case as a cover story. Just tell them that you're investigating the death of some girls. You're likely to get a bum's rush at that joint so it'll be a convenient way for you to not realize you dropped the envelope. Think of it as being unofficially part of the team of Inspectors investigating the case." Phil adds with a smirk. "And if you manage to turn up some information, I'll even make it official."

"I don't get the chance to say no, do I?" Ben supposed there was an upside, this way he could keep an eye on Gwen personally. He even had a valid excuse to be there.

Phil chuckled, biting the cigar between his teeth, "Old Max really raised you to be a smart boy, didn't he?"

--

A cab pulled up to the curb and a youth wearing imitation aviator goggles half-jumped, half-skipped out. Sparks tossed a couple of coins at the driver before making a bee-line for Charmcaster's shop.

"Heya doll," He greeted the Madame who only rolled her eyes. "Boss says he's gonna be a little late in returning your dealer. He took her on the detour." He waggled his brows suggestively.

"Already?" Charmcaster rolled her eyes. "He's not wasting any time with Tennyson, I see."

"Sure ain't, took her to Driscoll's too!" Sparks added.

"He'd better not be moving too fast and scare her off." The Madame sighed.

"Funny you should mention moving too fast-" The driver was cut off by an un-amused glare from the platinum-haired woman. He chuckled nervously before scurrying into the backroom muttering about how everyone just pushed him around.

Charmcaster couldn't afford the luxury of a distraction at the moment. Not after the call she received earlier that day. It was from one of her girls who happened to have an Inspector for a main squeeze. The girl informed the Madame that the cops found Chloe but couldn't get anything more out of him other than a request that she keep her eyes peeled for any signs of danger.

Charmcaster chewed nervously on her lower lip, _Mimi turned up floating in the east river, now Chloe's dead too?_

It was obvious to her that someone out there was targeting Flappers and the Madame worried that she was next on the list. Maybe if she knew how Chloe got done in, Charmcaster would have an idea how to better the security of her joint. A painted nail pressed down on the phone's hook before dialing a number to call in a favor from one of her frequent clients.

"_I'll be sure to send someone over tonight. And make sure you go easy on him, I had promised someone I'd look out for the kid."_

Charmcaster stared impatiently out at the sunlight-flooded streets; evening wasn't going to come soon enough for her. Her expression soured when she saw a car driven by a hyperactive youth pull up in front of her shop. A diminutive, bald gentleman stepped out, flanked by a tall blonde and a muscular, ginger-haired man smoking a cigarette.

"Why Ike, never thought I'd see your mug in these parts. What's the matter hun, you get tired of doing everything for Edwin?" She drawled before drawing the curtains apart just enough to show that Rocky stood not too far away.

"Cinders, can you make sure Ace doesn't intentionally park in the wrong spot? We don't need him trying to woo anymore meter maids." Ike instructed.

The smoking man chuckled, flicking the ash off his cigarette before exiting the store. It was a show on Ike's part; he needed to let Charmcaster know he wasn't there to pick a fight. His visit was purely meant for information gathering but he kept Casey around just in case.

"I'm here to discuss matters pertaining to one of your female employees," Ike explained calmly, his beady eyes showing no emotion. "Particularly her relationship with one of our runners, the one who goes by the sobriquet of Twinkles."

Charmcaster kept her face just as blank; she knew who the liaisons officer was talking about. She had seen the aforementioned man hanging around but never quite coming inside. Not that Rocky or Fingers would let him in, but Chloe had been mooning over the Tricks' man. She had confronted the flapper about it before, informing the girl that Charmcaster didn't want another repeat of the Fiver-Bongo incident.

Chloe stood her ground, declaring that what she felt for Twinkles was genuine. Charmcaster would have disciplined the flapper right then and there were it not for the fact that they had an influx of Big Spenders that evening, Enoch, Morningstar and Councilman Liang to name a few. By the time they closed for the night, Chloe was long gone.

"I can't imagine which of my girls you're talking about. Imagine having a relationship with a Tricks man? I taught them to have better standards than that." She batted her darkly painted lids, "And as for that Twinkles, hun the only thing twinkling in my joints are the dresses and stockings my girls wear. Besides, you know none of the boys here would let a Tricks man into my parlor without my say so. This here threshold's as far as the Truce will allow, hun."

"I had hoped we'd be able to come to some sort of agreement, considering we'll be forced to suspect your girl, and indirectly _you,_ to be involved in the recent strings of disappearing runners." Ike stated, deadpan.

"The girls are all that matter to me, the only boys I care to know about is Kevin, Rocky, Fingers, Edwin and most recently Ben." Charmcaster shrugged, as if the whole thing had no bearing on her.

"I find it quite unusual for you not to be in the loop, Madame." Ike sniffed imperiously, a feat in itself given how he barely came up to the platinum-haired woman's shoulders.

"You know what's strange, Ike? Just about the time I hear some of The Usual's girls become no-shows, mine are suddenly just vanishing too. If I didn't know any better, I'd say your real intention here is to spirit away more of my flappers. Heavens know you've already tried to swipe Beth and Lana." She declared venomously.

"I am afraid I am not familiar with either of their names." Ike merely adjusted his tie.

"I better not catch word you're trying any funny business with the rest of my girls, especially Tennyson. I've got big plans for that one." She leaned forward, eying Ike darkly before she hisses to him in an accent far more comfortable in the bayous, "You don' wanna be messin' wit' anyt'in mahn, _homme_."

"There aren't any gators here, Madame." Ike countered.

"Who said anything about those oversized purses, hun?" Charmcaster feigned innocence, words smoothly returning to her first accent as she idly turned her attention at the skulls and bones decorating her store. "You can keep flapping your gums about this Twinkles but there isn't anything I can tell you. And if you could be so kind gentlemen as to escort yourselves out of my establishment?"

Ike nodded, "Certainly and I do apologize for not calling ahead. The next time we make a visit, we shall be sure to let you know in advance."

"And there'll be more of us." Casey adds as stoic as Ike was polite.

The pair exits just as the shadows stretch out across the streets. Somehow, Charmcaster was glad that Kevin was taking his sweet time in coming back. She didn't even want to _think_ how this would have played out if he had been present. To momentarily distract herself, she went to unwrap the package Morningstar had given her the other night.

It turned out to be a bottle of whiskey. Charmcaster clucked her tongue, clearly not impressed and rewrapped the booze. "This stuff's not even good enough to wet my whistle with, you piker."

--

Evening finally decided to grace the streets of New York City and Charmcaster anxiously waited for the messenger bearing news about Chloe. Amethyst eyes widened in disbelief when she saw a certain jalopy pull up. "Oh Philly, hun, did all that smoke and cheap hooch finally get to your head?"

Ben didn't look too pleased himself as he got out of the rust bucket. With the envelope tucked neatly inside his uniform, the brunette strode into the dress shop.

_I'm here on official police business and it'd do us both a world of good if just you cooperate, Charmcaster._ He repeated to himself and just as he was about to deliver it with authority, the platinum-haired woman just motioned for him to follow her.

Well, that was certainly unexpected. Ben blinked, not quite certain if he should do as Charmcaster instructed but he supposed he _was_ there for a reason. At least this way he'd manage to see how Gwen was doing without needing to come up with a convincing line. He stepped through the curtain, noting that even if Kevin's speakeasy wasn't as luxurious as Edwin's, it wasn't any less clandestine or decadent when it came to what the establishment _really_ offered.

Some of the girls were milling about, chatting in small clumps before noticing Ben's arrival. They winked invitingly at him, blew him kisses and flashed skin. The brunette ignored them, he was a man of principle and loyalty. If he were to indulge in a night of wine, women and song, he'd do it at The Usual.

Charmcaster led Ben to a small room that smelled of spice and had red dust sprinkled in a line across the entrance. He canted his head curiously before stepping over it, careful not to disturb so much as a speck. It wasn't that he knew what the line of sand meant, he just didn't want to have any proof that he had gone _this_ deep into Kevin's speakeasy. Inside, painted masks and even more skulls and bones covered the walls and Ben couldn't help but shudder.

The Madame lit the room by flipping a switch as she settled down on a throne-like chair. She gestured Ben to sit on one of the numerous throw pillows and rugs scattered all over the floor. "I want you outta here before Kevin gets back. Now let's get this over and done with, hun." Her hand stretched out, palm upwards expectantly.

Ben had his orders to forget the envelope, but he didn't have to follow Phil's scenario. "I never knew you wanted me that way, but I gotta be honest you're a bit too _old_ for me."

The woman's already terse expression turned ugly, "I'm not playing games, hun."

"_I_ am." Ben grinned.

Charmcaster's lips curled into a sneer, "You seem to forget, lapdog, that you're in _my_ joint. You don't get to make demands here."

"Oh I'll give you want you want, I am under orders." He shrugged, pulling out the envelope as well as a small pocket knife, "But it was never made clear what state this had to be in when I give it to you."

"You wouldn't dare." She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh I would." His eyes flashed with manic glee, "Besides, I ain't asking for much. Just give Gwen the night off, she's been town for a few days already and I haven't shown her a swell time like I promised my grandpa and Uncle Phil."

The Madame smirked, "Too bad Kevin already beat you to it. And I'm sure he's showing her the kind of time those of kin can't."

"Gwen ain't that big of a sap," Ben defended, frowning. "So what's it gonna be, Charmcaster?"

Charmcaster mulled over her options, she couldn't call in another favor from Phil without owing _him_ this time around. The inspectors working on the case were extremely tight-lipped, even with her girls persuading them. There had to be a way she could turn this around to her advantage.

And she gave Ben a dazzling smile when she figured something out, "Well I suppose I could be persuaded to give Gwen the night off but what makes you certain I won't tell Kevin it was _your_ idea and not mine? Think about it hun, Kevin knows you can't stand the idea of him being near the bearcat and that'll make him even more determined to get closer to her."

"Horsefeathers!" Ben spat. "Gwen ain't some Dumb Dora who won't figure out Kevin's not really interested in her."

"And won't she be even more steamed to learn that it all comes back to _you_?" The platinum-haired woman batted her lashes while smiling sweetly.

The brunette snarled beneath his breath before crumpling the envelope in his hand and hurling it to the floor. His boot came smashing down on the balled up wad, "See if you can make heads or tails of it _now_."

Charmcaster just shook her head, "You really shouldn't have done that, hun. I was just about ready to make you an offer you can't refuse."

"You ain't got nothing I want." He returned defiantly.

"I was going to tell you I'll give Gwen the night off without telling Kevin about our little meeting but you'll owe me for it. And I'll collect it whenever convenient for me." She began, "But now, if you even want your cousin to have some time for herself you're going to have to owe me _and_ answer a few questions, hun."

Ben looked thoughtful, "So long as the favor doesn't involve bumping someone off or getting Edwin and his gang in trouble, I guess I could go with that."

The smile the cracked across Charmcaster's lips was very reminiscent of the feline called Cheshire. "I knew you'd see it my way, hun."

--

**Author's Notes:**  
This chapter doesn't really have Gwen _or_ Kevin in it for reasons that I simply want to advance the semblance of a plot that I have going on here XD Also, to those who are surprised or confused that Charmcaster is cajun, I had alluded to her heritage in the earlier chapters. I can understand why it might come as a surprise as subtlety really isn't my forte X(


	8. Bank's Closed

**Author's Note:**  
Okay this chapter may not have as much Gwevin-fluff as I had originally hoped but I did enjoy Sublimino's act 8D

--

**Chapter Eight: Bank's Closed**

"I had a real swell time, Kevin." Gwen smiled.

"Never expect anything less when you're with me, doll." Kevin nodded sagely as he turned around the corner towards his speakeasy. He felt his brow arc at the sight of the rust bucket parked out front but he kept his calm. "Lookie here, seems your cousin's watch is busted. You're not going home for another five or six hours."

The red-head frowned, she couldn't believe the brunette went against his promise. And it hasn't even been a whole day! "I don't think I can talk to Charmcaster about my employment right now, I'll be lucky if I still _have_ a job."

She felt the car lurch to a stop before Kevin draped his arm around her shoulders, "Hey, you're with Kevin Levin. Whatever I say goes. And I say you ain't going nowhere."

_At least not until I get what I want._ He silently adds.

"Tempting offer, but I don't take handouts." Gwen chuckled as she pulled herself free from Kevin and alighted from the vehicle.

"It ain't a handout, it's an offer. I could talk to Charmcaster for you about how long you're gonna be working for us. But..." he grinned wolfishly, "You'll owe me."

"Gwendolyn Tennyson don't do debts." She countered, "Besides, I'm more than capable of discussing the duration of my employment with Charmcaster."

"I'll always be available to help you out, just so's you know." Kevin clarified.

As they entered, they found Charmcaster seated atop the counter with a surly Ben waiting nearby.

"Aww, don't you two just look nifty together?" Charmcaster cooed. The platinum-haired woman found it interesting that Gwen neither had the doe-eyed look of someone who's head over heels nor the satisfied expression of someone who just had the most hedonistic time of her life. The young woman just looked like she enjoyed herself but Charmcaster knew it wouldn't last, the red-head would prove to be like all the other conquests Kevin had. "What do _you_ think, Ben?"

The brunette just snorted, his eyes tapering into slits at the Madame.

"What's he doing here?" Kevin demanded while his arm slipped around Gwen's waist, eliciting a glare from Ben and look of surprise from Gwen.

"A man with a badge sent him here to drop off some stuff. I figured that since it's Gwen's night off he could wait for her until she got back from sight seeing." Charmcaster explained cheerfully.

"Night off?" Kevin narrowed his eyes in displeasure upon hearing this.

"Yes, we don't have any Big Cheeses in tonight so we won't be needing her magic hands to rake in the dough. Which reminds me I haven't given you your pay yet, hun." The platinum haired woman hopped off the counter and handed the red-head what appeared to have been an envelope not too long ago.

"And here's a little extra, just because you have to put up with Ben _and_ Kevin." The older woman blew both men kisses and winked, pretending she was only teasing when she obviously meant every word. She then handed Gwen the parcel from Morningstar, there was no way she was going to serve such inferior liquor but she didn't have the heart to pour it down the drain.

Gwen's eyes widened when she saw the contents of both the envelope and the package but discreetly opted not to say anything. She tucked away her money and held the bottle of alcohol close to her, making note to save this for a special occasion.

All of a sudden, Rojo stumbled in from outside the shop. She looked exhausted and didn't seem to be all there, "O-oh, sorry, didn't see you there." She apologized to no one in particular. When her eyes fell on Gwen, Rojo's tired expression changed into a determined one.

Which, naturally, made the female Tennyson worried. She instinctively shrank into Kevin, not wanting to relive the close shave from when she first met the rust-haired woman. He didn't seem to mind having her press up against him for protection, in fact he relished it. Not just because he got to see Ben look positively livid but he rather liked the idea that he was being turned to for protection.

Usually it was the other way around.

"I'm not here for a fight," Rojo promised, "Actually I'm late 'cuz I went out and got you something to apologize." She produced two tickets and offered them to Gwen.

Hesitantly, Gwen plucked the scraps of card from Rojo's outstretched hands to study the words printed. "These are tickets to Sublimino's act?"

"The one over at the Realto?" Charmcaster asked, leaning against the counter.

"Yup, best seats in the house." The athletic flapper nodded and forced a smile. "Show starts in an hour. You'd better skedaddle if you wanna make it on time."

"A show does sound like a swell way to wind down from the day." Gwen decided.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go," Ben declared eagerly, pulling his cousin away from Kevin.

The cousins exited the store and Kevin watched silently as they drove off. Without needing to say a word, he reached out and had the phone handed to him by Charmcaster.

"I've already dialed the theater owner, hun. And I believe Rojo needs to be freshened up some." The Madame shook her head as she led the practically wilting flapper into the backroom.

--

The drive to the Realto had been filled with excited chatter from Gwen as she recounted the day's events to her cousin.

"So you're saying he never made a move? Not _once_?" Ben almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. The man Gwen described sounded nothing like the Kevin Levin he knew. "And he didn't lose his temper and pound on someone just for looking at him funny?"

"Honestly Ben, you make him out to be some sort of monster." She rolled her eyes.

"Just don't drop your guard, okay? Anyway, here we what the-?" Ben gawked and stepped on the brakes harder than he intended. Car horns honked as tires skidded to avoid a collision from the suddenly parked car in the middle of the street. Not that anyone could blame the brunette if they knew the reason for his abrupt stop.

There, standing in front of the theater was Kevin Levin.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Ben muttered as he was hailed down by a boy wearing the Realto's uniform.

Gwen was equally surprised and was about to feel flattered when she sternly reminded herself that there was nothing between them but the card game. And she had already paid that debt in full. So why were there so many gossamer wings beating in her stomach?

"I'll park the car for you, Sir." The boy offered, "The show's about to start so please go right on in."

Ben seemed reluctant to hand over the wheel to the attendant but Gwen had already gotten out and he didn't want her out of his sight.

"Fancy running into you like this," Gwen smiled up at Kevin.

"I figured since you had such a swell day, why not round it out with a darb night?" His broad shoulders rose and fell nonchalantly as a grin spread across his face.

"It _would_ have been if you hadn't shown up." Ben remarked, "Come on Gwen, the kid said the show's about to start."

Kevin flashed a wicked smirk, "Oh didn't the kid tell you? The show's actually sold out but I've managed to call and get us some reserved seats. I did ask for three but wouldn't you know it, only two in the center row were left. The third one's up in the balcony."

"I hope you brought binoculars, then." Ben countered.

"If you two don't stop being ridiculous _I'm_ taking the balcony seat." Gwen threatened, folding her arms across her chest in finality.

Both men blinked before glowering at each other. It was Ben who made a most generous offer, "You know what, it's fine if you have the reserved seats."

Kevin looked at the brunette in suspicion but nevertheless shrugged. He felt Gwen's arm slip around his and saw she had done the same with her cousin.

"Much better, now let's go in!" She beamed, not bothering to hide her excitement as she pressed forward. Arriving at the reserved seats, Ben watched as Gwen sat down with Kevin to her left and an auburn-haired young man to her right. When the two had settled, Ben took out his badge and held it to the auburn-haired individual seated beside Gwen.

"Sorry sir, I'm going to have to commandeer your seat for official police business." He lied before gesturing up at an empty chair in the man-made alcove above them, "You are, however, free to watch from that balcony seat."

It was a good thing Ben never explicitly stated _why_ he needed to have that seat or that he was with Gwen. Otherwise the red-head would have buried her face in her hands out of embarrassment and humiliation.

"What are you doing?" She hissed through grit teeth.

"Watching Sublimino's act from one of the best seats in the house." He replied, leaning back to enjoy the show while watching out for Gwen from the corner of his eyes.

--

The lights dimmed as a sight blinked on for mandatory applause. The audience put their hands together as the curtains rose and a spotlight focused on a small, blonde, bespectacled gentleman on the stage. He bowed, and motioned for the clapping to stop before tapping the microphone lightly to test whether or not it was on. Feedback blared throughout the theater and people cringed as they covered their ears.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, I am Sublimino and I shall be your evening's entertainment pleasure." Sublimino's shrill voice echoed. "Be amazed as I show you feats that mere humans thought to be impossible! But don't take my word for it. You can see it for yourself first hand."

An attractive young woman walked in from stage right, pushing a tray laden with all manners of objects. Each item Sublimino used to display mind-boggling illusions ranging from escaping from a straight jacket with his legs cuffed, to saving his lovely assistant in half, to an empty vase that when a kerchief was pulled over was suddenly filled with freshly cut lilies.

Gwen sat transfixed in awe. It was one thing to read about these illusions, actually _seeing_ it being done in front of you was another thing altogether. Wide-eyed with a child-like wonder she laughed together with the crowd and joined them as they let out a collective of _ooh's and aah's_ as the bespectacled blonde did his best to reach (and hopefully surpass) the standards set by Houdini.

While the red-head cheered and clapped, the two men flanking her were bored to tears. Kevin swore if anyone ever invited him to watch another of Sublimino's lame show, he'd saw them in half and it wouldn't be a trick this time. Kevin just yawned, unconcerned that the diminutive performer could see him from the stage and he stretched out his arms overhead. Casually he brought his hand down and around Gwen's shoulder, only to have it land on thin air as Ben pulled her away.

"You don't really believe this yutz is doing magic, do you?" Ben remarked, drawing his cousin towards him in time to prevent Kevin from draping his arm around her shoulders. The brunette just smirked at the dirty glare the dark-haired man shot him.

"Of course I don't," Gwen chuckled, "But it's still amazing how he can make it almost look genuine."

For the finale, Sublimino declared, "For my next trick, I require brave souls to be my volunteers!"

Hands immediately flew up, mostly those from the younger generation including Gwen. Sublimino tapped his chin thoughtfully before pointing to a strapping young man wearing suspenders in the back then to a lanky blonde girl on the far right of the room. He spotted Gwen and recognized her from the speakeasy and was about to include her to his lineup when he caught sight of the dark glares from the two men flanking the red-head.

Swallowing thickly, the blonde showman picked the bald man behind Gwen instead and instructed all three to come up on stage. The chosen trio got on stage, waving to the crowd and to their respective friends.

"_Now_ we begin the real show!" the performer clapped his hands and took out from his suit a pocket watch of an unusual design. There were no hands nor numbers, instead engraved on the face were strange swirling symbols that spun ever so slightly when he began to swing the timepiece like a pendulum. "I require complete silence from the audience and from my three volunteers your utter undivided attention. Look closely at my watch, never take your eyes off it."

His usually shrill voice became smooth as he continued to feed them instructions. "Clear your minds. Focus only on the sound of my voice and the motions of my watch. Your eyes are getting heavy. When I snap my fingers, you will all be under a trance."

At the sharp sound from Sublimino's digits, the three volunteers' lids fell close. "Tell me your names." He ordered.

"Charlie."

"Harriet."

"John."

"Charlie, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a boxer." The man answered monotone.

"How about you, Harriet?"

"Hairdresser."

"And you, John?"

"I work as a courier."

"Well John, you are no longer a courier, you are now..." Sublimino paused before grinning, "A canary!"

The bald man's eyes opened as he crouched low and began to whistle and trill. The audience chuckled as John hopped about the stage and they roared out in laughter when he attempted to fly and fell off the platform. He didn't let so much as a groan; rather he gave a peep before continuing to chirp.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, what I am about to tell these two to do next should not be attempted nor repeated beyond this theater." Sublimino began, "Miss Harriet, you are no longer a mere hairdresser, you are the world Heavyweight boxing champion! You are invincible!"

Instantly Harriet's eyes shot open as she took on a fighting stance and even in three inch heels managed to move as smoothly as any professional boxer.

Sublimino continued, "And to prove just how invincible you are, Charlie I want you to give our heavyweight champ a punch in the stomach."

An indignant gasp rippled throughout the audience, a man hitting a woman was known to happen behind close doors but it was a social taboo that no one spoke about. Let alone _witnessed_. But here they were at the edge of their seat, waiting to see how this would end.

"Don't worry, Ladies and Gentlemen, Harriet won't feel a thing." The bespectacled man promised.

Gwen felt like the tension in the room would smother her and to keep her calm she gripped at Kevin's arm as well as Ben's. Both men felt her nails dig into their skin but neither said a word, it didn't particularly hurt but it wasn't a pleasant sensation either. Ben was just as uncomfortable as his cousin. Hitting a girl didn't sit right with him even if it was all just an act. Kevin placed a reassuring hand atop of Gwen's and gave her a light squeeze even if he himself didn't think she had a reason to be so tense.

Because neither Ben nor Kevin would accept anything in this little sham of a show was real.

Charlie's muscles bulged through his shirt as he flexed his arm before giving the lanky woman a good wallop right in her gut. Harriet's three-inch heels scratched the stage floor as she was pushed back, but beyond the fact that her position had changed, she barely even flinched.

"John, Harriet and Charlie, when I clap my hands you will not remember a thing and it will be as if nothing happened to any of you." Sublimino declared before his palms came together to wake the three from their trance.

And indeed, Harriet looked as if she had just gotten on stage as opposed to having just taken a punishing hit. Charlie didn't even seem aware of what he had done and was wondering why everyone was giving him such indignant stares. John seemed a bit confused at suddenly being off-stage.

"Give these three a round of applause, folks!" Sublimino gestured as he bowed while his assistant helped escort the volunteers off the stage. "And that concludes our show! I'll be here for another week, tell your friends to watch."

The audience obliged the bespectacled performer his request before they milled out of the theater with mixed feelings. Some were utterly dumbstruck at how the magician managed to get such a lanky girl to withstand a punch. Some were scandalized over the whole thing; imagine making a man hit a woman in front of everyone?

Gwen was feeling a bit uneasy over the whole performance and tried to assure herself that it all had been an act. No one in their right mind would do something like that for real. It was all in good fun, right?

"That last bit was a real shocker, wasn't it?" Kevin asked with a grin. He found the audience's reaction far more amusing than the actual show.

Gwen nodded in agreement, "Sublimino certainly put on quite a convincing show."

Ben suspiciously eyed the dark-haired man, "Why aren't _you_ making your way to your own car?"

"Sparks." Kevin snapped his fingers and the driver suddenly appeared beside him. "Go get the car."

"Soitenly, boss!" he smartly saluted as a show of open mockery for Ben before scurrying off to fetch their vehicle.

"Come on, Gwen. Let's head back home, you look a bit tired." Ben suggested as he got the car keys back from the attendant.

"If you noticed she's tired why make her walk all the way to the car?" Kevin wondered aloud.

"It's fine, Kevin. I'm used to rigorous activities." Gwen assured him before blushing from the suggestive smirk that suddenly skittered across Kevin's features. "A-anyway, Ben you lead the way and I'll catch up."

The brunette glared in warning at Kevin but reluctantly started off.

"I want to thank you for a lovely evening and for trying to get along with my cousin." She smiled before getting on tiptoes to give Kevin a quick peck on the cheek. The apples of her cheeks blossomed red as she waved goodbye to chase after Ben.

Kevin watched Gwen's retreating figure and he grinned, widely. He'll have Gwen begging for more from him soon enough, not realizing there was the possibility that it would be the other way around.


	9. Dry Up

**Chapter Nine: Dry Up**

Seeing Ike dining with one of the breakfast patrons at The Usual was nothing out of the ordinary. The diminutive gentleman was the liaisons officer after all so it only stood to reason he would entertain a guest's request especially when it was his presence they demanded.

"Thanks for seeing me." A woman, face swathed in a dull-colored scarf, nodded. She had not removed the oversized hat whose brim easily covered the remaining features that her scarf had not concealed. Though she was dressed plainly, it was hard not to notice her given her height which was even more emphasized by Ike who was seated across her.

"Think nothing of it." He wisely refrained from mentioning her name.

Nervously, the woman pulled her hat even lower over her face, "I heard you were asking about some girls, but sorry I ain't got nothing that you don't already know. I do know about where the stolen stuff is being kept."

She leaned forward to whisper an address; lifting the hat just enough to give Ike a look at pale skin and rust-hued locks. Beady eyes narrowed suspiciously at the familiarity of the location mentioned, "Forgive me when I say I am doubtful of both the verity of your claims and the intentions you have for telling me."

He spied her body go rigid but said nothing, opting instead to slip his finger through the ear of the cup filled with hot coffee. Taking a slow, measured sip, Ike gave the woman time to compose her thoughts and come up with a reason that would convince him. Minutes tick by; only the woman seemed uncomfortable with the silence.

"Let's just say someone needs to be taken down a peg or two." She finally stated. "Oh and tell Tennyson to watch her back."

"Don't you mean _his_ back?" Ike quirked a brow, lowering the now empty cup back onto its saucer.

The woman towered over Ike as she rose; scarf hiding the nasty smirk on her lips, "You heard me right the first time."

--

From the door came three sharp raps, and without so much as lifting his head from the series blueprints covering his table Edwin bade whoever it was enter.

"Mr. Pride? Your nine thirty is here." A buxom little brunette declared.

"Send them in." The gray-eyed young man nodded to his secretary as he rose to greet his visitors.

Through the threshold walked two men, both in crisp, freshly pressed suits and ties. The younger of the two, a man familiar to Edwin outside of the realm of business, was the flaxen-haired heir to the Morningstar Motors fortune. Mike's smile was bright, though it never quite reached his eyes as the blonde shook hands with Edwin.

"Thank you for coming, Michael."

"Nonsense, it's my pleasure. Virgil wouldn't have anything to do at his hotel anyway." Mike laughed before nudging the bald gentleman beside him. The bronzed youth received a sharp glare from the older man who was busy giving Edwin's office the once over with obsidian eyes.

Seconds of tense silence passed before tobacco-stained teeth flashed in an approving smile.

Despite being over thirty years their senior, Virgil Generis still maintained a physique and an aura befitting that of one who was far more accustomed to a battlefield than an office. The fabric of his suit stretched over broad shoulders squared back with instinctive discipline, and rippled with each minute flex of his muscular arms. His square jaw and thick neck were hidden beneath the long, unkempt, platinum-hued beard.

Edwin supposed if you were a wealthy oil baron, you had no reason to care what society thought you should look like. Extending his hand, the dark-haired youth introduced himself "Mr. Generis, I'm Edwin Pride."

The predatory grin never left Virgil's lips as he accepted the proffered limb, "You're the spitting image of your granddaddy when he was a young 'un."

"Thank you," Edwin tried not to wince at the vice-like grip with which Virgil shook his hand. Gesturing to the empty chairs in front of his desk, "Would either of you like something to drink or eat while we discuss this proposition?"

"Coffee would be fine," Mike replied without a backward glance as he sat down.

"Really? I pegged you more of a milk drinker." Virgil drawled nastily as he closed in on his own seat in two long strides. "I'll have coffee and a helping of waffles and a side of eggs. Sunny side up but cut the yolk out of the whites."

Edwin nodded, not in the least perturbed by the demands the oil baron made, given the right circumstances the young Pride proved to be quite accommodating to even the most inane of whims. With the instructions for refreshments being carried out, Edwin could now focus on securing a new construction deal between the three companies.

Five minutes into the negotiation, the oil baron suddenly took control of the conversation.

"I'm gonna level with you, Pride." Virgil began, "I'm a simple man with simple wants and simple needs. I don't need more money. I'm more interested in making this dump we call a world a better place for the young 'uns when they grow up. If this little community center you plan on making will do that, then just show me the dotted line to sign on."

Neither Edwin nor Michael could believe the ease it took to seal the deal. "I'll have the contract draft sent to your room as soon as possible, Mr. Generis."

"Virgil'll do, boy." The larger man barked. "I don't need to be reminded of my age. The changing times does that enough as it is. Now, if there isn't anything else, I'd best be moseying on back to my hotel room."

The dark-haired man nodded, "I'll have a car ready for you both in just a moment."

"No need, Edwin." The blonde smiled as he rose, "My chauffer will be taking us back to Driscoll's."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you both. Michael, if you ever decide to show Virgil The Usual_,_ just let me know."

The blonde stiffened, turning his back to Virgil before replying "I'm certain we'd love to have lunch there. No sense in risking an encounter with the _spirits_ living in the old mansion."

Virgil's expression soured, "There ain't no such thing as ghosts and you're a downright fool for thinking there could even be such a thing, Morningstar."

Edwin understood the emphasis the tanned youth placed on the word spirits, not to mention indicating the time they would visit and didn't pursue the matter any further. Instead, he escorted both men down the building to the car awaiting them at the very entrance. Much to the doorman's surprise as it was a rare occurrence to see the soon-to-be president of the company walking anyone to the exit, let alone their vehicle.

As Virgil crammed himself into the backseat, Mike lingered to speak with Edwin. "I hope this means we will have more favorable dealings in the future?"

"Only time will tell, but I prefer to have allies rather than enemies." The younger man cordially stated.

Again the smile that never quite reached Mike's eyes appeared, "Don't we all?"

_That certainly went better than expected_, Edwin allowed himself a small grin of triumph before returning upstairs. Nothing could put the dark-haired man in a good (not to mention generous) mood quite like landing a new contract. _I wonder if Ben is available for lunch._

Meanwhile, in the privacy of the quickly speeding vehicle, Michael turned to Virgil, "What do you think of Pride?"

"Good head on his shoulders, pragmatic in spending his cash, interested in helping his fellow man." The large man almost sounded impressed, were it not for the frown on his face. "Mighty big shame he owns a speakeasy. And like that Levin boy, Pride's gotta go. You'll take care of all that, won't you, Morningstar?"

This time, the cold smile reached the blonde's eyes as he nodded, "Indeed I will."

--

The clocks in the Tennyson household read quarter past ten on their face before Gwendolyn finally came down the stairs. Her cousin had given up trying to rouse her for breakfast over two hours prior and simply told her if she wanted to eat she'd have to cook for herself that morning.

It was a task she neither begrudged nor feared.

Yawning and wiping her eyes clear of the last traces of sleep, the young woman moseyed into the kitchen to make herself something to eat. She was certainly in a good mood, as evidenced by the spring in her step and the cheerful hum dancing together with the smile on her lips. There wasn't any particular reason for her to be so chipper, at least none that she would like to admit.

As she lit the stove, the phone suddenly rang.

"Hello?" Gwen answered.

"Nice to hear you're finally up, sleepy head." Her cousin's voice teased from the other end.

"Ben, is there a particular reason you're calling?" She asked.

"You bet, Gwen! Guess who finally has enough time for an actual lunch hour?"

The excitement in Ben's voice amused the red-head, "You?"

"No! Well, yeah, can't believe I'm actually all caught up with my paperwork for once. But I'm not the only one who's got time." The grin on his face was near audible, "Edwin's swinging by with some news so I figured since you've probably got time, why not join us for lunch? It's the perfect way for me to introduce you to my friends!"

Gwen canted her head, "Edwin? Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Family friend, you remember? The Prides?"

With the name and a snap of her fingers, Gwen recalls the surly, stand-offish boy her cousin had introduced her to during a family reunion many years ago. "Does he still have a frown permanently stuck on his face?"

"Hey, he can crack a smile if he feels like it!" The brunette claimed in defense of his close friend. "So you up for another free lunch?" The moment the words left his mouth Ben wanted to smack his face. He could already picture the pursed lips and the quirked brow that was sure to form on Gwen's face. The notion would have bothered the young woman, had Ben not quickly followed up with "Yeah, so you better not order anything too pricey."

Gwen allowed herself a smirk, "I'll order what I please. I have my own money."

Ben suppressed a sigh, "Don't I know it. Anyway, we'll drop by the house around noon. There won't be any unexpected or unwanted guests today, will there?"

There came the rolling of emerald eyes, "No, Ben, I don't think you have to worry about Ke-"

"Copacetic!" Ben hastily cut in, "See you later."

--

Cigarette smoke wafted about the room in thick plumes, curling and twisting before dissipating to merge with the faint haze slowly forming. Four individuals sat, encircling the felt-covered table, each holding a hand of cards.

"You're pulling my leg." Kevin frowned in dismay at the bit of information he had received from Charmcaster.

"No I'm not, hun. I spoke to Sublimino myself, says he enjoyed his time at our joint so much he'll be spending his evenings here for the rest of his stay in New York." The Madame grinned before playfully licking her lips, "You never told us about his show though."

"Heh, betcha he was too busy to pay attention to the pipsqueak's act." Fingers leered. Of Kevin's men, only Fingers and Rocky could ever tease the dark-haired man without fear of retribution.

"You're half right about that." The younger man grinned, "But I thought we were here to discuss shop? What's the word on why some of our sources have been making like Charmcaster's girls and our runners and drivers?"

"They haven't been showing their faces not because they're sleeping with the fishes," Rocky answered before reluctantly folding out of the game. "They got paid off to stay away."

Brows knitted in disbelief and suspicion, "Takes a lotta dough to convince someone to cross us _and_ the Tricks. What say we pay one of our old friends a visit later tonight?"

"You're not planning on sweeping Tennyson off her feet?" Charmcaster smirked while raising the ante of the game.

"What's one night? I only need a few more days with her and I'll have her eating out of my hand." Kevin declared. "'Sides, you all know how I prefer to take care of business before pleasure. The question now is which of you two is gonna tag along?" he turned to the two muscular gentlemen, both having folded at this point.

"I might need Fingers tonight, hun. A little birdie told me we're in for an influx of deadbeats." The sole woman explained.

Fingers looked mighty pleased, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. Rocky didn't mind being overlooked, perfectly fine with accompanying Kevin along with a number of men they would be bringing.

"That settles it then. Now deal another hand, I plan on cleaning you out, Charmcaster."

"You can try, hun."

--

The noon-day sun found Gwendolyn riding in the backseat of a car, flanked by two men of her age. To her left was Benjamin who was still in uniform and to her right was Edwin who sported his suit and tie. Garbed in a simple dress whose sleeves met her wrists and whose skirt stopped short of her instep, the red-head felt she made the right choice in her clothes.

"Wowee, Tennyson, why didn't you tell us your cousin's a real looker?" The young driver's grinned cheekily. There was something about the easy-going manner with which he spoke that made his observation more endearing than uncomfortable to Gwen.

"Because it wouldn't even occur to him." The stoic, muscular man beside him supplied impassively for Ben. "You'll have to forgive Ace, Miss Tennyson, his mouth tends to work faster than his brain."

"And you'll have to forgive Casey for being a big ol' wet blanket." Ace laughed, nudging the blonde teasingly while maintaining complete control of the fast-moving car. Casey merely grunted, not in the least bothered by the younger man's words. There was no point in denying the truth as far as he was concerned.

The red-head chuckled in amusement, "You certainly have interesting friends, Ben. How did the four of you meet?"

"I met these two knuckleheads through Edwin. They work for him but we became pals real quick." Her cousin explained.

Ace chattered with the enthusiasm of someone who may have had one too many soda drinks. "And we're sure lucky to have Edwin as our boss."

At this statement, Casey nodded his assent.

"So Gwen, Ben tells me you're gainfully employed despite it being your summer vacation?" Edwin asked, subtly eyeing her.

"Yes, I am." She braced herself for any smart remarks the dark-haired man might make. But none comes, and she would soon find to great relief that Edwin showed far more tact with his opinions than her cousin or Kevin for that matter. Gwen found it strange that she should be thinking of the older, russet-eyed man given how little he must have in common with the pride of the, well, Pride family.

_Must be the hair. And the suit._ She reasoned while they continued to converse.

It wouldn't be long before she changed her tune as Ace pulled up at a large mansion that now fronted as an establishment of fine dining. The trio alighted from the vehicle and were greeted by the maitre'd. "Ah, Mister Pride, your table has been prepared as you had requested."

Ben grinned, noticing the confused expression on his cousin's face as they were escorted past the dining area and towards the kitchen doors. As they stepped into the ballroom, Ben's knowledge of how speakeasies worked was made clear to the young woman.

"Welcome to The Usual, Gwen." The brunette beamed.

A diminutive gentleman whose height reminded Gwendolyn of the performer Sublimino approached them with the same deadpan expression as the muscular blonde, Casey. His eyes however were far colder and more calculating than the bodyguard's. "Sir, I must speak with you about something when you have the time."

"Of course, Ike, after lunch would be fine unless you'd care to join us?" Edwin offered.

The bald man shook his head, "No, I wouldn't want to intrude." And he excused himself.

"If you thought Casey was a wet blanket, Ike's an even bigger one. No pun intended." Ben whispered, completely serious.

"Is he another friend of yours?"

"Ike doesn't really allow himself any friends." Edwin answered as the three of them arrived at a booth at the far end of the room. Gwen slid into the inner seat with Ben following after, Edwin took his place across the cousins as he continued "But he's a man of principle and integrity, a real rarity in these times. It wasn't easy convincing him to work for me, but the effort and the expenses were worth it."

"Just how many speakeasies are there in New York?" Gwen couldn't help but ask.

The two men turned to each other, as if consulting on who had the honors of answering. Ben decided as the blood relative he did, "Two."

Gwen blinked, "_Just_ two?"

"There used to be a little over a dozen struggling speakeasies, but with between my effort and a certain individual's, we managed to whittle down the competition to its current state." Edwin shrugged with such a practiced nonchalance that Gwen found herself thinking of Kevin again. And at the thought of the other dark-haired man, something in Gwen's mind clicked.

"This lunch is more than just a social call, isn't it Ben?" She glared.

The brunette stared blankly at her briefly before turning to Edwin for help. The gray-eyed man had an idea of what Gwen mean and her accusation had some hint of truth to it, "It doesn't have to be unless you want it, Gwen."

"No. No! _No_!" Ben gasped, suddenly catching on. "I am not going to ask my cousin to spy on Kevin and I am not going to let _you_ ask her either, Ed!"

"Gwen should be safe, word has it he's keen on her."

Ben scoffed, "He'll tire of her, like all the other dames."

"Ex_cuse _me. I'm right here!" She snarled, "And I cannot believe you'd even think I'd consider such a thing even if you are my cousin."

"Hey I ain't the one who brought it up." Ben countered, "You're the one who suggested the whole thing, not me. I just thought this would be the only time I'd ever get to introduce you to my friends since none of them are welcomed at Kevin's. I get the bum's rush if I so much as _look_ at the joint."

"Then explain how you were still inside Charmcaster's shop when I got there yesterday." Gwen frowned, folding her arms across her chest. She was too angry to notice the look of surprise that flashed briefly on Edwin's face.

"I was there on official police business." The brunette shot back.

"How convenient." Gwen rolled her eyes.

"Convenient or not, I apologize if I gave you both the wrong impression," Edwin spoke with genuine sincerity. "When Ben told me of your place of employment the thought _did_ cross my mind but it's something far too dangerous and far too much for me to ask of you. This really was supposed to be nothing more than a simple lunch to become acquainted with each other.

"After all, our grandfathers go way back and it would be a shame if we can't carry on the legacy of friendship over something as minor as a misunderstanding." He finished simply.

With an embarrassed sigh, the fury in Gwen's eyes died down from a fiery inferno to smoldering embers. She didn't want to admit it, but Ben's comment had upset her in a manner she thought unlikely. The red-head wasn't about to admit this to either of the two men she was with, least of all herself. "I, I'm sorry too. I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually this testy."

Ben was about to make a remark pertaining to spending too much time in an undesirable place such as Kevin's speakeasy. But with the warning glare Edwin shot him, he decided against it. Instead, the brunette added his own two cents, "Yeah you _were_, back when we were kids. You'd holler and pitch a hissy fit whenever I pulled your pigtails."

"And you cried like a girl when I shoved your face into the mud." She countered with a smug grin. "No, wait I'm wrong. It wasn't mud, it was pig slop."

Edwin just chuckled at the likelihood of the two cousin's claims. "What have you been up to, Gwen? Before coming to New York I mean."

"I graduated from university and have been working on getting my teaching degree. I should be a certified instructor come next summer."

Ben added, "Any plans on you coming for another visit?"

"We'll see how this summer pans out first." She shrugged good-naturedly.

--

**Author's Note:  
**Short chapter is short! First of all, thank you for all the reviews, they mean a lot. However, I feel that I must make this known: When I started writing this AU fic, I only intended to write Gwevin fluff set in the 1920's with some minimal plot going on in the background. Somehow as I discussed it more and more with **blue c 84**, the little plot bunny I started with began to grow into this... _thing _before you. And, well, I'm just starting to worry that I'm in over my head trying to write it, not to mention the _considerable_ lack of Gwevin in this chapter (and possibly the others to come) and so I apologize in advance for any disappointment you may have be it with the plot or the characters or my horrible tendency to self-deprecate without warning or even with my style of writing.


	10. Heebie Jeebies

**Chapter Ten: Heebie Jeebies**

It was a lovely, summer afternoon where a breeze blew through the streets, cooling skin and tugging at clothes with its caress. Pavement, buildings and parked automobiles alike were bathed in the warm, honey-glow of the sun. Even as people bustled and went about their busy day, they couldn't help but stop once in a while to take a gander at the nearly picture-perfect scenery before them.

But not everyone is privy to such pleasant sights. There are certain locations that the sun's cheery rays will never reach, certain individuals that don't see the light of day out of choice.

Take for example a basement.

There is a stale, acrid smell, a combination of paint thinners, embalming fluid and bleach emanating from everything that could make eyes sting and noses run. It is overwhelming, suffocating to those who are unaccustomed, and mildly irritating to those who have grown used to the odor.

The solitary window built near the room's ceiling had been sealed off with bricks long before the current tenants moved in, much to their delight as they were saved the trouble of having to board it up themselves. With this immovable curtain, the owners saw no reason to remove the metal bars grilling the window, nor the heavy, fist-sized padlock rusting from the dank, damp air of the basement. It even added an extra touch of despair to the already gloomy atmosphere.

If, that is, one could see anything in the meager light of the small bulb hanging overhead.

The weak glow could barely highlight the edges of crates, some still nailed shut, others broken open from a violent scuffle or one too many blows with a crowbar. Peering intently, one could make out long work benches with tools of all sorts ranging from hammers to scalpels lay neatly organized on the surface.

Lining the walls and decorating the room, stopping short of the solid, stone stairwell that led upstairs, were animal carcasses mounted and stuffed to mimic human postures. It was not so much as the gestures and mannerisms that prompted one to question the taxidermist's sense of aesthetics but the fact that most (if not all) had a Frankensteinian flare to them.

A bear, stuffed in mid-curtsy, possessed rabbit ears, elephantine tusks and had three pairs of eyes, and one could almost swear the third pair had an eerily human blue to them. Two blue crows were strangling each other not with feathered wings but rat-like paws and balanced themselves with reptilian feet.

The taxidermy was flawless, as if these misshapen creatures had indeed existed and were preserved in the manner which they had been discovered. One might go so far as to marvel at the skill, if the end products weren't so bizarre.

Amidst the stillness of the room, a head lolled back against a rough, splinter-infested headboard while cold sweat glistened on bare skin. Eyes had rolled to the back of his skull, crimson-stained stubs where fingers should be twitching involuntarily. Wrists were bound in thick leather, strapped tightly to the arm rests and ankles had blood circulation cut-off by the vice-like grip of iron manacles. Ears functioned enough to hear a cheery song, but the mind was too far gone to process the words or understand the melody.

"Over there, over there. Send the word, send the word over there." Chapped lips sang, flashing yellowing teeth every so often. With a bottle of cleaning fluid and a damp rag in hand, he proceeded to clean crusting puss and bits of flesh off the blood-stained, long nose pliers' end.

The singer didn't pause when he detected the sound of the metal scraping against stone and glanced over his shoulder to see the door at the top of the stairwell opened. Wiping methodically at the tool, he continued, "That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming the drums rum tumming everywhere!"

A scented, white kerchief was retrieved from an inner pocket before being pressed against bronzed skin.

"I knew it was a wise decision to leave Virgil at the hotel." Michael chuckled, expensive leather shoes making no sound as he descended into the depths of the darkness. "What would he say if he heard you singing that, Doctor Animo?"

"As if a man of Science would allow one red-neck's opinion of his choice in music affect his work."

Michael quirked an amused golden brow, "Even if said red-neck has the means to fund your studies and experiments for the next decade or so?"

Shoulders shrugged, "So long as his money doesn't complain, I don't see how that will pose a problem to me."

"He's as old fashioned as you are," The blonde explained, blue eyes not having properly adjusted to the dark enough to spot the nasty glare he was being given.

"Do not liken my ethics or my beliefs with those your kind holds." The glint of a scalpel's blade serves as a warning. "Virgil and I may be from the same generation, but I do this for the advancement of Science! Not for _profit_."

Mike is neither impressed nor intimidated. Under the guise of returning his kerchief to the inner pocket, he undoes the buttons of his blazer just enough to bring the holster strapped to him into view. When Aloysius set the scalpel down back on the table, the younger man approached the bound individual, "And how is our friend today?"

"Useless, like the first night he was brought here. Doesn't know anything we don't already know." The man of Science sneered, thick boots kicking at the chair to add injury to the insult.

"Well that won't do, we still have three or four sources we haven't located." The younger man shook his head in disappointment, "It looks like we have to rely on Sublimino to get what we need after all."

"If he can keep his focus on his task and off those harlots' derrieres he might be able to pull it off." Disapproval and distrust etched clear across Aloysius' frown.

Michael was inclined to agree, "He is more interested in spreading his fame more than sticking to his objectives. But so long as he has that gizmo we need him."

"Bah! Just give me a few hours with that thing and I should be able to replicate it with ease." Chapped lips spat.

"You said it yourself Doctor, you tinker with _flesh_," bronzed hands reach for the scalpel before smoothly slicing a thin, scarlet trail lengthwise along the bound prisoner's exposed sternum, eliciting a strangled screech. "Not _gadgets_."

Snatching his instrument back from Morningstar, Animo's brows knit together, "The composition of flesh is far more complex than mere cogs and widgets, boy."

"I'm sure it is." Michael chuckled, thoroughly amused at how little it takes to rile the doctor. Turning on his heels, hands in his pockets, he heads towards the door with relaxed strides. At the top of the stairwell he adds absently, "Oh yes, when you're through tinkering feel free to dispose of him however you wish as long as you do nothing to draw attention."

As the door shuts close, Animo picks up a spool of thread together with a large needle and proceeds to stitch the freshly cut wound. Gurgling moans of agony accompany the man of Science while he sings with a most manic grin, "So prepare, say a Prayer. Send the word, send the word to beware."

--

The instant Gwendolyn stepped through the curtain of beads separating the shop front from the speakeasy's interior, a wave of dread washed over her. Standing with her arms akimbo, platinum brow quirked and lavender-painted lips pursed, was the Madame.

"Tennyson, hun, my office. Now." Charmcaster's usual affectionate lilt was audibly missing. With a ring-laden finger, she gestures the red-head to follow her to the small room her cousin had been invited into not too long ago.

Gwendolyn's mind raced, trying to discern why she received such a grim reception from the older woman. Was she tardy? No, she couldn't be and a brief glance at the tables and chairs that have yet to be properly set up confirmed it. And even if she were, it wouldn't be a grave enough offense to warrant being summoned to the Madame's office.

"Close the door, hun." Charmcaster instructed with a deadpan expression as she sat down on the throne-like chair.

Stepping over the line of red dust, Gwen did as she was told and nervously stood at attention. Her anxiety increased when she took in the macabre collection of skulls and bones, imagination running wild with the notion that she might be making a considerable donation to the Madame's collection some time soon.

The seconds slowly ticked by, but Charmcaster looked to be drawing the tense silence for as long as possible. Despite the carefully blank mask of her face, Gwendolyn could tell the platinum-haired woman enjoyed watching her grow antsier by the minute.

Finally, a grin graced the Madame's lips. "Why you're white as a sheet, Tennyson. Can I take it that you respect my authority and aren't planning on undermining me or the joint? Or is it guilt making you jumpy?"

Emerald eyes blinked in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"A little birdie told me you were seen entering The Usual, hun." Was Charmcaster's nonchalant response while inspecting her well-manicured nails. "Now, I suppose the lapdog I mean, your cousin, tried his best to keep you in the dark about how we run things in speakeasies. So I'm going to forgive you for your ignorance this one time. Just make sure that-"

"Now wait just a gosh darn a minute," Gwendolyn exclaimed, voice rising, temper flaring.

Charmcaster wasn't completely taken by surprise when the red-head cut in, the Madame did know a bearcat when she saw one. If the older woman wasn't so accustomed with masking her real feelings, it would have taken a great deal of effort to keep a smirk from forming as she listened to Gwen's explanation.

"I had lunch with my cousin and a family friend I haven't seen since I was knee-high and wore pig-tails. What you're accusing me of is all a load of baloney and-"

Two fingers were suddenly pressed against the red-head's lips, effectively silencing her. One minute the Madame was seated and the next she was inches away from Gwendolyn.

"Hun, hush now," Charmcaster whispered, her breath sweet and warm brushing against the younger woman's cheek. The distinct lack of distance between Charmcaster's face and Gwendolyn's could not be ignored, and it made heat bloom throughout Gwen's body in a manner most uncomfortable. "I take good care of my girls, be they greeters, dancers or dealers. So long as they're not double crossing me or stiffing me of dough or blatantly disobeying my orders, what they do on their own time is none of my beeswax.

"Now, _Kevin_ is less forgiving. He's more likely to give you a fat lip first before asking. And excuses, no matter how on the level they are, just don't cut it with him. I'm doing you a favor, hun, letting you of easy rather than giving you a taste of what you _could_ get if you don't stay away from Pride and out of his turf."

Gwen stepped back, the heels of her shoes stopping short of the line of dust that matched the color of her cheeks, indignation burning clear in her eyes. "I hardly think I matter enough to Kevin that he'd be concerned where I spend my time."

It wasn't certain if the smug, knowing look on Charmcaster's face affirmed her statement or contradicted it. Regardless, it annoyed Gwendolyn, but what truly disconcerted her was the fact that the red-head partly wanted the expression to be the nay-saying sort.

Pushing that last thought out of her mind, she asked the Madame "Was this warning all you wanted to see me about?"

"That and to make sure you know we're in for a flux of deadbeats tonight." The older woman shrugged, sauntering back to her seat. "I don't want you believing every sob-story that comes outta these bozo's lips. Your fingers are supposed to make _us_ rich, not them."

Unpainted lips pursed at the allegation of being gullible, eliciting a chuckle that hinted at the claim's verity from the Madame. Gwendolyn decided it was best not to press the matter any further, deciding instead to focus on proving to her employer that neither she nor Kevin had any cause to suspect her of anything.

Without further ado, the young woman motioned to leave, only to have Charmcaster absently add "If you find yourself in way over your head, hun, just call for Fingers. He'll help straighten things out."

Gwendolyn did not particularly like the sinister smirk on the platinum-haired woman's face, nor the foreboding sense of dread forming in her stomach.

--

A young man sat in the small dressing room he was crammed in along with eight other musicians. From the moment he walked in, he hadn't had a moment to himself. Not when he was unpacking his saxophone, polishing it, assembling it and warming up by playing a few notes together with the other musicians.

And certainly not when the door burst open and a large, muscle-bound man in a sharp suit barked out one word: "Vamoose!"

No one questioned him or his orders, they knew whom he worked for and gathering their instruments, they began to file out the door. They were all let out, except for the sax player. Who, when trying to walk past a certain, dark-haired, russet-eyed individual, was stopped when a heavy hand came down onto his shoulder.

He was pushed back into the room, forced down onto a chair as the last of the musicians exited. Three other men walked in, broad of shoulders and large of fists. They too were dressed in well tailored garments but that was the extent of their polish. Their words, crude and vulgar, their tone of voice threatening and brusque.

"Long time no see, Albright," Kevin greeted, removing the fedora from atop his head.

"W-what brings you here, sir?" the young musician stammered.

"What? Can't a guy pay a visit to his favorite Tin-Pan Alley star?" Kevin _almost_ sounded genuine if his shrug and the smirk didn't exude so much cocky arrogance.

"Th-that's mighty kind of you, sir." Nervous fingers drummed along the neck of the saxophone, beads of sweat trickling down his temple, following the curve of his cheeks towards his thick, prominent lips.

"Hey, don't sweat it." Kevin waved in dismissal.

"I gotta get on the stage soon, sir, can I help you with anything?" Albright wisely refrained from saying what was on his mind lest he ends up encouraging what it is he's trying to avoid.

Kevin grinned, "You always did catch on quick."

"Yeah," one of the men accompanying Kevin snorted, "For a ni-" he wasn't given the chance to finish the derogatory slur as his employer promptly smashed his elbow into the man's face. Expletives flew from bloodied lips, but he received no sympathy from anyone in the room.

"Never use that word in front of me," Kevin explained darkly, "It ain't gonna get nothing done and just makes things worse. Ain't that right, Albright?"

The musician swallowed, nodding. "If this is about Cooper, I, I don't know much, sir. Except that iffin' you ever catch wind of his whereabouts, I'll be short one less friend."

Kevin glowered, "You're not gonna make me have to take you for a ride, am I?"

"Begging your pardons, sir, but Cooper knew you'd be here to see me sooner or later. So he just upped and vanished on me, sir. But it ain't much of a secret, how he and his is getting their palms all greased up by a new comer."

Russet eyes narrowed, "Give me something to work with about this new comer."

"The cat keeps things under wraps, sir. Ain't got much to go on except that he's getting his money from down south. The _old-fashioned_ south." He spat out the words in disgust, anger flickering in his eyes as briefly as a flash of lightning before clouding over in with careful secrecy. "I really gotta warm up for the show, sir."

Clapping the musician on the back, Kevin nods, "Go on out and knock 'em dead."

Albright nodded vigorously, "You ain't gotta tell me twice."

The fedora was back on Kevin's head when he and his men disappeared from the dressing room.

In hushed tones, the man who had his face smashed in asked "If it's so easy to make him spill the beans on his pal Cooper, what makes you think won't turn stoolie on us?"

Rocky provided the explanation, "Because he knows no one but us will take his word seriously."

"It also helps that we got the only copy of the file the fuzz had on him. The one that they conveniently lost, along with those they had of you guys." Kevin chuckled as they climbed into the car.

"Where to now, boss?" Sparks asked, hands on the wheel, eager to zip off to their next destination.

Kevin knew which of his connections he was to visit next, "Back to our joint."

--

There was something about the clean texture of a freshly opened deck of cards, the sharp snap they make when shuffled, the smooth way they glide over felt that is calming to Gwen. Her fingers act on their own accord, lost to the rhythmic pace of cutting, shuffling and dealing. Idly she chatters with the few people who stray over to her table, small talk that make no impact on either party, things that neither will remember or care to afterwards.

Every so often, some of the other girls will grace her station with their presence, particularly to show off the decoration on their arms, namely men either zozzled beyond reason (making them easy pickings for a game or two) or old enough to be their grandfather.

"Better luck next time, gents." The red-head stated, mimicking the way the other girls spoke as she revealed her hand. And she uses the term _gents_ very loosely, considering the sort of words that are uttered when they practically shove the chips at Gwen.

The other girls coo to their losing patron, make promises of consoling them if they were still generous enough to buy them a drink. The flappers exchange sly winks with each other, tossing their head back in mad fits of giggles, body language making as much innuendo as physically possible.

At that thought her eyes cannot help but wander towards the booths where Rojo and a few other girls sat with Sublimino who was making himself comfortable on the athletic woman's lap. The usually surly flapper was all smiles, as if absolutely riveted by the conversation she was having with the blonde entertainer.

Her fingers would fiddle with the diminutive man's wiry hair and playfully pull at his bottle-rimmed glasses. The rust-haired flapper seemed to be making up for her less-than-welcoming attitude from nights past.

Charmcaster was flitting from one cluster to another, appearing then disappear just as quickly, a will 'o the wisp, as if her presence had been little more than one's imagination. But the scent of her perfume, the lilt of her laughter, the light feathery touches, they linger in the back of people's mind as a solid testament to her name.

Once or twice, Gwendolyn swore she saw the Madame on the dance floor, bare feet moving in time with the music, hips swaying seductively, beckoning to everyone whose eye she had drawn that like her girls _she_ could be had.

For the right price.

It was an offer several of the patrons wished to take up, but only a select few could even come close to making an acceptable bid. The Madame's painted lips cracked a smile, colored lids fluttering coyly as she offered her silk-smooth hand to a gaunt gentleman whose pale, leathery skin was stretched taut across his bones.

From the corner of her eye, Gwendolyn watched as the pair slipped away to disappear into the backrooms.

If the red-head was uncomfortable with the hedonistic on-goings, she managed to conceal it behind a warm smile, a good-natured laugh. She focused her thoughts on her job, keeping an eye out for any potential cheaters, studying for any tell-tale signs that might indicate whether she was to deal a winner or a bust. The steady flow of people coming to her table kept her distracted enough from noticing Kevin was no where to be seen.

Until, that is, the aforementioned individual made a beeline for her table and forcibly relieved the current high-roller of his seat.

No one dared complain.

"Hey there." Kevin greets, velvet of voice, confident of manner.

"You'll have to wait for the next hand if you plan on joining," Gwen responded, far more aloof than she intended, Charmcaster's warning had apparently had more of an effect than she thought.

The mischievous gleam in his eye shone as he signaled to the other players that it was in their best interest that he be left alone with Gwen.

Clinking of chips being gathered and the quick shuffles of retreating feet were the response made.

He propped his elbows against the felt surface of the table, chin resting on the back of his hand, "And how's my girl doing?"

"Who exactly are you talking about?" She asked neither coy nor sharp. Gwen was keeping herself in a careful neutral despite the butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

"Who else but Charmcaster," He tells her, brow quirking in amusement at the sudden rigidity of Gwen's shoulders.

There was a pause before the shake of her head, "You're something else, Mister Levin. Charmcaster's currently predisposed in one of the backrooms. Now if you would so kindly let me do my job?"

The sudden formality of her speech does not go undetected to the dark-haired man, and he cannot help but break into a wily grin. "Sure, but just so's you know," he rises, turning his back to the young woman while he heads for the Madame's whereabouts, "The only way you could be my girl is if _you_ wanted to."

It took every ounce of will power to keep Kevin from glancing over his shoulder to see the look on the red-head's face. He would later learn, from one of the busboys, that Gwen seemed more confused than pleased by his statement.

With Kevin's departure, the other players returned to finish their game, with two exceptions. The first was an older man dressed in worn clothes that only emphasized his lanky frame. The sleeves were frayed, patches clumsily sewn where the elbow and knees of his suit should have been. Disheveled hair hid his eyes, his unkempt beard and mustache surrounded the ugly twist of his mouth. Such a shabby appearance, coupled with his unusual complexion, it was a wonder he was granted entrance.

But it was not Gwen's place to judge, her own apparel was dowdy, frumpy when compared to the glitzy rhinestone-covered dresses of the other girls.

Hovering a few feet behind the scruffy newcomer was the bodyguard Fingers. It was difficult to miss the man whose suit seemed hard-pressed in keeping him clothed, the suspicious, distrusting look on his face even more so.

"So which will it be gents, Blackjack or Poker? I'm feeling generous tonight so you can take your pick." Gwendolyn offered, folding the cards lengthwise just enough to spring them back and forth between her hands.

"Poker." The poorly groomed individual declared, not bothering to make a consensus with the other players. He didn't so much as glance at his competitors, instead mumbling beneath his breath and reaching into his pocket every so often.

When no one objected, the red-head dealt them their hands. Under Charmcaster's instructions, she soon had every man cleaned out. And as normal, those who lost would wander elsewhere, trying their luck in something else.

Save, that is, for the muttering man.

"Another hand!" He hissed, despite the fact his meager stack of chips were long gone.

"You'll have to bet something first," Gwen explained, ignoring the strange chill that made its way up her spine.

A snarl and a hand slammed down forcibly onto the felt. The appendage retracted, revealing a small brooch shaped like a dragonfly. It looked tacky, costume jewelry at best, a cheap three-for-one toy at worst.

"I'm sorry but you'll have to turn that into chips," Gwen pushed the brooch towards the man.

"Listen, you tramp, I've been playing here long before you ever showed your stuck up face in this joint!" he snarled, slipping the brooch back into his pocket before pointing an accusing, knobby finger inches away from Gwen's face. "I know what I can or can't do!"

And suddenly the lights were eclipsed as Fingers loomed over the man. "Been waiting all night for you to make a dumb move, Clancy." The bodyguard grinned.

"Applesauce." The man squeaked, "Hey, I ain't done nothing but put this tramp in her place."

The disheveled man felt meaty digits encase his nape, winced visibly at the tightening grip on the base of his head. His legs began to kick wildly when the soles of his feet could no longer feel the surface of the floor.

Wordlessly, Gwen watched as Fingers lifted Clancy up and off the ground by the scruff of his neck. "You looked like you were gonna hit her. Charmcaster don't like it when people try to rough up her girls. And a certain _someone_ likes it even less."

"W-what are you going to do with him?" Gwen asked, a lump forming in her throat.

"Don't worry your pretty lil' head over it," Fingers laughed.

Clancy's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, desperately trying to free himself from the larger man's clutches. Still holding Clancy aloft, Fingers headed for the backroom where they both disappeared, leaving an upturned stool as the only proof either man had been present.

Gwen found herself feeling very cold.

--

**Author's Notes:**  
Apologies for the time it took to update (and a short one at that!). I had a major writer's block for this chapter, not to mention gotten eaten alive by a combination of work, HM:IoH and Viva Piñata. How playing something as cheerful as Viva Piñata led to me writing this, I have no clue. But reading Jojo's Bizarre Adventure on the side did help me at least start writing. The chapter's a bit darker than I intended, but not dark enough to warrant an M rating. I think.

I like Animo, I really do, the fact his first name's Aloysius is just love. I still wanted to keep true to his mad scientist shtick but since this ain't the 21st century _or_ Steampunk, I went with taxidermy (another word I love, even if it is a cruel thing to practice).

The next update will probably be in late October. Yes, I am sadly not quite alight with the flame of inspiration to write more anytime soon. As always, comments and criticisms are highly welcomed. If you notice any glaring plot-holes or have issues with the way I interpret the characters, just let me know.


End file.
